Breaking the Music
by FlightAngel
Summary: Being in love with your best friend stinks. Being in love with your best friend who is in love with your OTHER best friend stinks even more. Gaara, high school, and the haunting of his past. Gaanaru Yaoi
1. Name: Kiss Oil

_Dear Uzamaki Naruto,_

I know who the person you like is.

I know someone that really, really likes you.

I know that they're not the same person.

And I know that both of them are very close to you.

_Happy love-making, Anonymous_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

Being in love with your best friend stinks.

Being in love with your best friend who is in love with your _other_ best friend stinks even more.

And having your third and last best friend laugh at us all behind our back _really_ makes my day.

I'm sitting here in the middle of my best friend's room (the one who I have a crush on), large, black, padded headphones snug around my ears playing my favorite band while attempting to catch onto my friends' conversation.

"…so I stood up there in front of the whole class and shouted out that Maito-san was a total loser—this was before he came in—and guess what—"

"He came in at that exact moment?"

"—he came in at that exa—hey!"

"You're so predictable, Naruto."

"Shut up, Sasuke-teme!"

I roll my eyes, casually flicking the volume on my CD-player louder as I blankly watch the two squabble. Neji, who's dozing besides me sipping a flat coke (Naruto, apparently, doesn't drink soda much and the cans in his living room were from last year), rolls his eyes and sighs, pulling out a well-worn, small brown leather notebook that actually contained some of the most famous stories every known (according to _him_ by the way).

Naruto and Sasuke's fight goes a little like this—

"Just piss off! You always think you're so damn smart but in the end you're just a freakin' retard!"

"Who are you calling a retard, you dumbass? Who can't even score a 'B' in art? Who's failing four subjects out of seven? Who doesn't even know the Pythagorean Theorem even though he's a junior?"

Naruto scoffed at the Pythagorean Theorem comment. "I do too! It's… it's… er… wait…" He slowly counted his fingers as everyone else and I sweat drop, "…oh I remember! It's that thing where it says that all numbers are even right?"

I deadpan.

Sasuke deadpans.

Neji deadpans, then gets up and continues his book.

Sasuke pressed his fingers against his temple and sighed. "Naruto… you're impossible…" The ecstatic blonde looked blank, as if calculating what he did wrong. Turning to me, he leans over and whispers in my ear, "What's the Pythagorean Theorem?"

I whisper back, almost giggling since his breath tickled my ear and felt nice, "It's for triangles—it says that the square of the base of the triangle and the square of the its side sums up to be the same as the square of the hypotenuse."

Naruto seems to look blanker.

He pulls back and looks at me for a second.

He opens his mouth, about to say something, then shuts it.

Sasuke's obviously getting pretty ticked off about it, and whams the youth hard on the head with a feather-pillow.

"Baka, what do you want to say?"

Naruto, rubbing his head, scowled "I just _wanted_ to say—when'd you get so smart, Gaara?"

I raise my brow a little (due to my lack of eyebrows—an incident having to do with my older brother, Kankuro, his razor, and my sister's tampons…) and purse my lips, "Oy, what'd you mean by that?" It was supposed to be a joke, but the way it came out it sounded extremely serious.

I hate it when I say something like that by accident.

Thankfully, Neji chose this time to close his book and look out Naruto's bedroom window, "Hey, it's about time we get started, right?" We all turn towards the window, and Naruto breaks out in a grin.

Casually swinging his arms around my shoulder, he shouts, extremely loud, "That's right! Starting now!"

Starting what?

I grin along too, not because my crush has an arm around me, but because Naruto's laughter is _extremely and highly contagious_ and can make anyone laugh (me). "Downstairs?"

The blonde beams.

"You bet!"

--

I remember when I first moved to Konoha.

I was around twelve at that time, a first year in junior high, transferring to a town I didn't know and didn't care about. It was pretty bad, too, since I didn't have my older siblings there to protect me, unlike in Suna where the teachers allowed them to trail me wherever I went. Temari wasn't even in Junior high—she was just starting high school at that time so I didn't see her at all except at home, and Kankuro and I didn't get along as well. Temari said it was our male pride. I say it's because Kankuro's obsessed.

Don't even _ask_ me what he's obsessed about—he's just… obsessed. About anything: dolls, puppets, TV, computer, Temari's tampons… yeah. He had to be obsessed with something, or he'd probably cease to function and (hopefully) die.

Anyways, it was pretty horrible in Junior High since the bullies there had immediately targeted the 'new boy' as a victim and started to tease me. You know, scratch 'fag' and 'gay-wad' on my locker, lock the doors whenever I need to use the restroom, tripping me in class, blaming me for things I didn't do—the usual. It got really horrible sometimes—once, they actually tried to rape me (they were third years, and I was still in first) until Kankuro came in and actually ripped each of them apart (sent them to the hospital, all three of them, with two broken noses, one broken arm and two sprained ones, a deep knife wound in the thigh, all sprained ankles, and bruises everywhere).

It was the only time I felt genuinely grateful that I had an older brother.

Part of reason bullies target me was that I was an automatic 'loner', which was probably due to my silent personality. I didn't like to talk, and if I did, people thought I was creepy. I had no eyebrows (the eyebrow incident happened when I was in fourth grade) I had red, flaming hair, which was and still is (embarrassingly) as bright as a beacon, and a 'love' tattoo sketched over my left eye. I liked to talk about blood and violence a lot, too, and that made people stay away from me more often.

I was actually pretty dangerous if I had to be.

I admit, I've killed someone before.

… Ok. Multiple someones.

Just that, before we finally arrived at our new house in Konoha, Temari had turned around and looked me straight in the eyes and said, lowly, "No more killings, Gaara."

And, knowing that Temari could do worse to me then just shave my eyebrows off, I promised myself I'd be a good boy this year.

Or as good as I could get.

Which was not good when a boy whom I could easily break his neck is stuffing my head into the toilet trying to get me to kiss a piece of poop. "Come on," he sneered, "Eat my shit." Of course, this got me pretty pissed off, and I would've really broken his neck and killed (yet another) student until someone (amazingly) stepped up for me.

"Hey, leave him alone, you asshole."

The boy who had me by the neck yelped as a tall, handsome boy grabbed him around the waist and roughly flung him across the bathroom like a rag toy. He hit the counter hard and immediately started to scream as blood trickled down from a crack in the back of his head. I sneered as I lifted myself from the toilet (he was inches away from actually plunging my head into his unfinished business) and looked at my savior.

He was pretty tall, with pale porcelain-like skin contrasted by dark ebony hair which was tied back with a dark blue headband. Except for the headband, he was pretty cool-looking, and it only took me a split-second before I figured out his name—Uchiha Sasuke, loner, emo kid, probably one of the most popular guys in school. I squinted. The headband made him look like a dork.

He was glaring at me.

"What the frick' were you doing letting him do something to you like that?" He reached to grab me, and I was just about to dodge, when a blonde blur came about and crashed into the porcelain-boy, who grunted at the impact.

"SAAAAAAAASUKE!"

The dark-haired boy winced. "…Naruto…"

The blonde grinned at the mess of black hair on the tile, then frowned when he caught sight of my bully, still screaming, blood pooling down by his ankles. "Oh, gross. Sasuke, what'd you do?" His crystalline eyes scanned the bathroom, taking note of the poop-filled toilet, me, with my brow covering most of my eyes in a glare, and the bully, who had thankfully just fainted. He drummed his fingers against his chin and pursed his lips. "Hm… this will be kind of hard to talk about to Aunty about… damn, Sasuke I think you've crossed the line here."

Sasuke, who had pulled himself up from the floor, hissed at a newly purpling bruise on his wrist and pointed at me, "hey I was just trying to save his ass."

My scowl darkened. "I could save my own ass, thank you."

Naruto's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he gasped, "The New Kid Speaks!"

I hate these kind of people. A little spoiled, can't think straight, happy-go-lucky. Ugh. Totally not my day.

He was staring at me.

His head cocked to the side, his mess of blonde hair fell a little into his face as he examined me up and down, starting with my psychotic red hair, my love tattoo, my piercing green-blue eyes, pale, almost white vampire-like skin, my black sweater and clingy red t-shirt, dark cargo pants and bare feet. My brow raised a little.

What was he doing? Checking me out?

His face broke out into a wide smile, and immediately I felt uneasy.

"Sasuke!" Naruto announced, quite excitedly, "He looks nice! Let's make him our friend!" I blink slowly, then reel back in shock. _Nice_? _No one's_ called me nice before in my _life_. Was this guy crazy?

Sasuke narrowed his eyes at the sight at me, and I knew he thought I was trouble, but he shrugged, "Ok, whatever." Naruto clapped his hands.

"Yay! Hey you're name is Gaara, right? The new kid?" Grabbing me by the hand he pulled me up and smiled, "I'm Naruto! Uzamaki Naruto! Let's be best friends!"

And that was how I met him for the first time.

(My bully was still bleeding on the floor, and was found two hours later almost dead. Oh well, he deserved it)

--

Naruto's basement is _huge_.

His Aunt and Uncle are actually the head of the educational department in this district, chairman and president of Make-Out Paradise Enterprises and heirs to the Konoha Fortune. Which makes them, all in all, super, filthy rich. So rich, in fact, that his Aunt could afford to down four bottles of the most expensive wine in the whole county and not even make a dent in their financial status.

So rich that they were actually excited about buying Naruto a whole band-set with the highest quality technology in each and every instrument (a keyboard, a stereo system, one of those DJ things, a bass, an acoustic guitar and an electric one and a bunch of other sound systems that Naruto hasn't even touched) and even some stands and a microphone set.

So rich, that, they could afford to transform the once cobweb-infested basement into a band studio for their nephew.

Of course, all this was done with little persuasion from the said teenager.

"Sometimes they treat me like kids, sometimes they treat me like an adult," He mutters as we head downstairs into the studio, "Tell me I have to take responsibility but buys me anything I even take the slightest interest in…"

Neji and Sasuke exchange knowing glances, both coming from extremely wealthy families as well, at Naruto's dilemma. I, a born street punk living in the run-down downtown portion of the district, shrug uncomfortably.

After we finally reach the bottom steps, I fling my backpack down besides the miniature stage and immediately grab Kiss Oil. He's kind of dirty, and I quickly wipe away some of the dust off with my sweatshirt, smiling a little as the slick red paint shows up brightly after cleaning him off a little.

"Come off it, Gaara, it's just a frickin' guitar, don't baby it." Sasuke plopped himself down at his seat behind the drum set, and picked up his brushes, "You act like it's going to die on you one day or something—don't worry too much, it's gonna last."

I glare at the Uchiha behind my guitar, wrapping myself protectively over him. Hey, it was _mine. _Really it was.

--

Before, I had borrowed Naruto's electric-blue guitar, the real high quality one his Aunt and Uncle had bought him. One day, I'd accidentally plucked a string too hard and the damn thing just came off with a 'twing' and scared the heck out of me. As I mentioned before, I come from a poor family and couldn't _possibly_ pay for a new guitar-- but then his Aunt just waved it off and told me to just go and replace the string for free at the guitar shop they'd bought it at.

Surprised that the shop wasn't that far away from my house, I'd planned to go there during Saturday to replace the string. Of course, that was before I heard Temari's wonderful and enthusiastic declaration of going-on-vacation. She had graduated high school two years ago, Kankuro, one, so both of them had enough spare time to go on a mild-expense tour to some place called 'Tokyo' or something, and had expected me to come with them.

"Come _on_, Otouto!" Temari pleaded, trying to dislodge me from the banister, "It'll be fun!"

"I'm not going to a frickin' city in a frickin' country that speaks a different frickin' language!" Of course, I didn't really use the words 'frickin' but Temari told me (no, _ordered me_) to be child appropriate, so I've _adjusted_ my sentences to fit the ears of minors. Or course, I'm a minor myself, but still.

"Gaa-ra!" Temari shrieked exasperatedly, pronouncing my name like it was two different words, "Ok, young man, I don't care if you're a legally pronounced serial killer or not _you are my brother and you _are_ going on this trip!_" And, with a very rare burst of enormous power, she finally pried my hands and feet off and literally stuffed me into the trunk of our car.

Ok, it's not as bad as it sounds—we have a really huge trunk, since we own a Chevy. I glare at the pedestrians as Kankuro starts the car and drives down the street, to this so called 'Tokyo' place. I could hear them bickering as Temari tries to do some back seat driving and Kankuro starts getting annoyed.

"No, no, no, the quickest way to Interstate 31 is down Norway Lane—"

"Ne-chan," Kankuro said between clenched teeth, "I know _exactly_ what I'm doing so just shut up ok?"

Of course this led to some weird scuffle where Temari tried to take control of the wheel from the passenger seat, Kankuro was leaning over to avoid getting hit by our sister and I was receiving several bruises as the car started to swerve in the road. Finally Kankuro gave a cry of frustration, pulled over and stopped the car. He turned to Temari with a dark scowl.

"What the heck is your problem?"

"What's _your_ problem?" She screamed back, "I told you if you took that street on Norway Lane we wouldn't be stuck here lost in the middle of nowhere!"

"We are not the in middle of nowhere," He roared, "I know where I'm going!"

"Yeah?" She shouted, "Prove it!"

Of course, there's me in the trunk, contemplating whether or not this was a good time to jump out of the car and run back home, trashing the idea of this trip altogether. Of course, this was a pretty silly idea considering I was at least fourteen miles away from home _and_ I didn't have the spare key.

After Kankuro and Temari resolved their conflict (something my counselor would probably say) we were off.

I dozed a bit in the back, dreaming of Temari chasing after me with a razor, Naruto's Aunt screaming at me trying to hit me with the broken guitar, Naruto and Sasuke making out—ok, ew, why I was I dreaming that?

I was finally startled awake when Kankuro braked the Chevy with a loud screech, stopping in front of a rather cheap-looking hotel with some sadly artificial red curtains draped across the entrance.

"Home," He announced, "For five days."

I groan—the worst five days of my life.

Of course it wasn't really _all_ that bad. Since it wasn't as bad as I thought (the place we went was actually a _town_ called Little Tokyo, not the actual place) I started to relax after the first day. Temari dragged me to those little one-room shops where they sold cute little dolls and toys and stuff and forced me to choose which one was better—this doll of Yuki from Fruits Basket or this little keychain of these two boys making out.

Why girls are so obsessed with gay people? Beyond me.

Then Kankuro decided to take me to the ocean (gasp! My lazy-ass brother actually _doing_ something with his time?) and he actually got me to strip down to nothing but my shorts and my collared jacket, running around in the sand. For some reason, I felt like a little kid when I excitedly brought my older siblings some shells I'd found by the water, one that was spiraled brown and speckled black, another which was like a circle with rings, a bright orange.

"If you put them against your ear," I quoted Naruto, who constantly told me about the ocean, "You can hear the ocean."

Temari smiled behind her hand.

As soon as we came, it was over—it was our last day in Little Tokyo and then we needed to head back (due to my school—Temari had made up the excuse that I had caught a severe case of influenza and it would've been weird if I'd stayed out a little longer). Temari, as she was packing our stuff back into our trunks, grinned at me.

"Hey, want to go 'round the shops again one last time?"

Of course, we sneaked out while Kankuro was out putting stuff away in the trunk and ran giddily up against the aisles of shops by the hotel we were living in. I was, like the past four days, eying the merchandise in the windows, with Temari drifting alongside me. We passed more anime shops, cafes, ice cream stalls, clothing stores, and, finally, my favorite—the music room.

It was a pretty small business, only about half the size of my room, with instruments crammed into every imaginable area there was inside the store besides the little narrow black carpet that lead the entrance of the store to the counter and to the backdoor. Temari, who wasn't that much of a music fan, rolled her eyes as I glued by eyes to the display and refused to move.

I admit it.

I'm a total music geek.

And I just _had_ to get that guitar.

It was a sleek, red thing, arched and curved perfectly, glinting in the sunlight. Mighty strings clung from the arm to the body, and, from the look of that amplifier sitting to the right of it, it was an electric.

Perfect.

I puppy-eyed my sister. "Te-ma-_ri_!"

She groaned.

"Gaara! You're always so normally quiet and uncaring: _why the heck are you obsessing over a stupid guitar_?"

I just made my green eyes larger. "Please? All last summer I helped you at that weird café place you were waitressing at and you never gave me anything but maybe a smile. You know I really like music, and I really like electric guitars, and I really, really, want one…"

I have to admit, this was totally not like me at all. I was _not_ a drop-down-on-knees-and-beg person. Really, I wasn't, but for this guitar, I would do _anything_.

Temari, who took one look at my determined, puppy-eyes face sighed and got out her wallet. "Ok, ok, but you better get a 'Little Tokyo' sticker and stick it somewhere on that thing so when people ask you can just say it was a souvenir." I sort-of smiled and moved to sort-of hug her.

All I can do was sort-of do stuff.

"Thanks, Ne-chan." I said, and Temari stared at me like I had just grown two heads.

"…you haven't called me that for ten years. Wow…"

Anyways, I got my guitar, Kankuro got pissed off at us ditching him, we went home, end of story right?

Well…

"Wha--?! You haven't replaced the strings yet?" Naruto freaked out, "Man, Aunt Tsunade's going to get _sooooo_ pissed!"

I groan.

--

I'm tuning my guitar now, Sasuke's playing a weird improv beat on his drum set, Naruto's attempting to sing his messed-up lyrics, and Neji's strumming his bass. Naruto actually plays a mean acoustic guitar, but goofs off so much it isn't that obvious at first glance.

"And those who dance, sing under the stars—" Naruto was attempting to reach a high tenor and made himself sound squeaky instead, like he'd swallowed a bubble of helium or something. Sasuke, who was only right behind him, leans over the drum set and grabs the back of Naruto's neck, making the blonde choke on his squeak.

"_Sasuke!"_ He shrieks, like a mouse, as the brunette digs his fingers into the fine pressure points in the others neck. "_Stop it!_" Sasuke just smirks as Naruto aimlessly struggles to get out of the Uchiha's grip while Neji and I were laughing our asses off.

"Ooh! You're getting it!" Naruto finally manages to pry Sasuke's eager fingers away and tackles him off the stage good-naturedly. Neji, who had almost immediately recovered after his bout of laughter, sighs and continued to strum his bass.

His bangs are clipped back behind his ear with an almost transparent black bobby pin, hair parted from the side, above his right eye. His pale eyes focuses intently on his left hand, which was strumming the bass, while his right hand fiddles with his small charm necklace that hung high on his slender, pale neck. Of course, that means he wasn't actually _playing_ any notes, he's just fooling around.

Neji, fooling around?

Please.

We were all dressed in the same clothes, our band clothes-- dark and soft black pants that covered our feet completely, making us instinctively shuffle a little on the cool wooden stage floor as we got up and down to adjust the microphone and stereo settings and other things. A different color t-shirt for each of us—all splayed with a violent design of a heart, a chain ruthlessly cutting through the middle, the side, the diagonal, in white. In the background there were multiple chains everywhere, and, in the way far back directly behind the heart was a pair of hands silently making the sign for 'name'.

All thanks to our resident artist, Hyuuga Neji.

My shirt, which was a dark maroon-red, was crinkled up and sort of dirty, due to the washing machine breaking down twice this week because of Kankuro constantly banging it with a chair trying to open the door (he was pushing it in when he should have pulled. It even has a sign that said 'pull'. How stupid could he be?)

"Ok," Naruto announces, triumphantly holding a microphone to his mouth, "Ready! Let's start practicing, shall we?" We got into position and sang.

Ok, so we sort of sang.

I know that we're a decent band at our finest, with Naruto and I as tenors and Neji as bass (Sasuke would just get drowned out by his drums). However, I will note, _our finest_. Which meant some of our early band rehearsals, like this one, stink.

Naruto kept tripping over our lines, losing beat, and then stops the whole production and shouts at Sasuke for missing the beat.

"I am not missing the beat," Sasuke roars at him, "You're the one who frickin' messed up in the first place!"

"I just stuttered a _little_," Naruto growls back, "I couldn't have _possibly_ been off the beat by _that_ much!" Neji, who was chewing gum, offers me a stick. Neji's the only person I know who can be chewing gum and talk at the same time without someone noticing.

After accepting the piece of gum, and waiting it out for the two other members of our team to stop bickering, we'd practice the song over. And over. And over. And over, again.

After a while, it was just like, the entire band knew the song by heart, even if Naruto kept stumbling over lines.

"_There's a dream, there's a r-rush, _

_For your darkness, there's a touch,_

_Of mighty fine, silver duster powder_—"

Neji growls as he continues to strum his bass, "Dust, not duster, you stupid…"

Naruto, who is pointedly ignoring him, continues to sing,

"_So there is nothing you can do_

_Nothing you can hide_

_A silver lining on your words_

_Ain't gonna pass it by_

_There is nothing you can do_

_Nothing you can hide_

_Sweet talking Momma a-ain't_

_Gonna make me forget about you"_

Naruto moans and sort of flings his acoustic onto the ground, collapsing on stage.

"I'm so dead now!" He whines, and Sasuke moves to kick him, "Can we stop now? Please? We can go upstairs and play video games. Or watch TV. Or talk about girls. Or eat food."

"Or," I add dryly, "Do our homework."

The blonde wrinkled his nose. "Oh. Yeah, that."

I sigh. It was going to be a long second semester this year.

--

Author's Notes: Ok, I know, not very exciting. I mean, who CARES if Gaara went to little tokyo or not? Its not IMPORTANT. But it was fun to write and unless I find a home for the scene elsewhere I am keeping it there. I reuploaded this chapter with some corrections... gomen...


	2. Name: Dull, Drab, and Boring

_Neji's Ten Tips in Becoming a Successful A+ Student_

Do all your homework

Pay attention in class

Tutor someone

Get someone to tutor you

Date someone who is smart

Date someone who is dumb and try to convert them to smartness

Study two hours more then you should

Read Five books a day

Call up your friends for study sessions

Yell at said friends for not appearing at study sessions and refuse to talk to them ever again.

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

I personally, detestably, hate and will always hate the prospect, idea, mention and actually _in-being_ of school. The whole concept just really ticks me off—the clean, white-polished walls, musty-smelling carpet, talkative chatter of multiple cliques and the monotonous drone of the dorky dorks. Sitting alone in my own little bubble in the middle of Spanish break, I have my headphones clamped firmly down upon my ears, listening to various tunes drowning out the chatter, bobbing my head up and down.

How I hated school.

The teacher, smoking like a chimney pipe by a half-open window, was reading an old classic—Huckleberry Finn. I hate classics, and I despise our Spanish teacher. I don't even remember his name. His bushy black hair crawled down his face and formed a rather thick, yet neatly trimmed, beard that made him look old.

Did I tell you I hate facial hair?

I never get facial hair in the mornings—even after I'd reached 'puberty'. The multiple razors by our family sink all belong to my brother, who's a hair-producing _monster_. I swear, I can see stubble growing just an hour after he last shaved it. It's pretty disgusting. Thankfully, Kankuro keeps his face clean-shaven, because it would look pretty silly with facial hair and paint _and_ it'd probably piss me off so bad I'd kill him.

Literally.

I'm zoning back into Spanish again. The teacher stops puffing on his cigarette for two seconds to tell us we're dismissed, and we all happily rush out of the classroom. I'm trying to get to my locker, but the two people who just _had_ to share the lockers next to me are standing _right in front_ of mine, chatting about—guess who? Sasuke.

"And then—he was so totally like, 'Hey' to me and I was like, 'Oh my god!' and he walked away so cool and all I could _feel_ the room start to chill!"

"Like, oh my god!"

"Totally!"

I growl, turning the volume up higher on my iPod and attempt to wait them out. They were two empty-headed, yet oddly honor student, girls who were in two out of seven of my classes. I can't seem to remember their names either (hey, I'm not one to remember names ok? The only people I really remember are Naruto, Sasuke, Neji, Temari, Kankuro, Hatake-Sensei, Tsunade, Jiraiya, and… er… ok, that's all I can remember now…)

I glance at the clock in the hall and growl louder for the girls to hurry up. Said girls, however, did not seem to catch point and continued to chatter. Finally, pushed on by the fear of being late, I actually push them apart and start opening my lockers.

Both girls gasp at the indignity.

"Puh-lease?" The blonde girl said, mascara blinking gold in the sunlight (gold mascara? What are girls wearing these days?) "Like, what the heck is _wrong_ with you, volcano boy?"

My brow twitches at the mention of 'volcano boy'. I've heard worse comments about my hair, but, nevertheless, it still pissed me off. Biting my tongue at the prospect of losing my reputation, I open my locker, put in my Spanish and Writing textbooks, and take out my supplies for Trigonometry and World history.

The magenta-haired girl, who was probably feeling particularly mean that day, 'accidentally' bumps into me and spill my supplies all over the hallway floor.

"Oops," She crones, innocently. The other girl snickers.

Feeling a rather familiar emptiness at the bottom of my stomach, I slowly retrieve all my books and tools and stuff them into my bag before she had another chance to do anything else. Slugging my (red) backpack over my shoulder, I try to scurry away to my class but they stop me.

"Hey," The blonde says sweetly as she leans against a locker, blocking my exit, "Want to ditch with us?"

Now, I've learned a few tricks since I came to Konoha. When Temari ordered me to stop killing, she also ordered me to hit the root of my problem—my anger. She pointed out to me that it wasn't _anger_ that was the problem, it was how I _handled_ anger.

To avoid anger-tantrums and someone ending up on the floor dead, I had to pick up _some_ things in the world of sociable people. Don't ever talk back to a bully. Ignore or run when someone tries to pick on you. Stand up for other people. Try to look insignificant. _Don't tell others that you're dangerous_.

_Now_ was so not the time to deal with this. Quickly ducking under her arm (and hearing her squeal) I hurry off to Trigonometry fast as I can go.

I barely make the bell and receive an incredulous look from the sensei (and yet again, I can't remember her name). Naruto, who sits right next to me, leans over as I wiggle into my seat, "Dude, where were you?"

"Chick bait." I mouth as I took out my tools and notebook. After I got into high school I got pretty serious about my grades. And if I wasn't, Temari would surely be after my throat for it (or maybe with a razor…). My goal before this year was to score at least a B in all my classes, even the ones I hate or am bad at (like Spanish and P.E.), while this year there was something more.

But I'll talk about that later.

I feel a piece of crumpled-up notebook paper get shoved into my hands, and I look beside me to see Naruto give me a little wink. I open up the note.

_Hey, so who were the chicks?_

I scribble down underneath,

_I can't seem to remember their names. Help?_

After casually placing it onto Naruto's notebook, I struggle to pay attention to the teacher's droning voice. However, she had this voice that just seemed to always put me to sleep (don't ask me why) and I felt myself nodding off when the notebook paper was shoved into my hands again.

_Circle who:_

_Blonde with long ponytail. Blue eyes, likes to talk. Crushes on Sasuke_

_Pink-haired (dye-ecstatic) brainy. No common sense, green eyes, whiny voice. Crushes on Sasuke_

_Dark brown hair tied in two buns. Usually wears pink, doesn't talk, violent. No crush._

_Dark black hair, long, tied in two pig-tails. Shy, doesn't talk, stalker. Crushes on me._

I circle 'Blonde' and 'Pink-haired' and hand it back to Naruto.

As I yawn and take out my graphing calculator from my backpack, Naruto's writing something down on the paper in his lap, occasionally looking up from his seat, feigning interest at what the teacher was talking about.

_Blonde is Yamanaka Ino_

_Pink is Haruno Sakura_

_Dude they're both bitches, they used to pick on me a lot in junior high when you guys were gone. I can't believe they haven't grown up yet! _

The last statement was followed by a badly sketched frowning face. I snicker as I stare at the wobbly thing, thinking about what Neji would say if he'd seen the paper in my hands.

I scribble back.

_Nice drawing._

_Can I ask you a question? What's up with you and the Harvest Festival this year?_

The teacher wants us to open up the 'Y equals' function on our calculators now. Why are we doing this if we're in trigonometry? I'm copying the function written on the board when something sharp, dangerous, and _cold_ stabs me hard at the back of my head. I don't do anything but flinch at the small shock of pain, turning around and finding a mechanical pencil rolling around the floor.

Looking up, I catch a particular boy's eye and glare very, very hard. He's in all my standard classes and Spanish, and is probably the most annoying guy I've ever come to know excluding Naruto, since he's annoying, but not _bad_ annoying.

Naruto's leaning back in his chair, mouthing words to the other boy. "What the frick was that for, Kiba?"

The other boy, who had pulled down his dark grayish hood mouthed back, "He was falling asleep." I grit my teeth in anger.

When the bell rings I immediately leave for World History, not pausing to say anything to Naruto, Kiba, or anyone else for that matter. It was later that I remembered that Naruto never responded to my question about the Harvest Festival. I clench my teeth again.

Why were people keeping so many secrets away from me?

--

I pick at my food.

Neji, who's sitting next to me, must have felt some sympathy for me since he gave me two slices of his chicken-steak-thing. I chew on it slowly, like a cow chewing cud. Wait, why was I comparing myself to a cow?

"So she asked you out?"

"Hn."

"What? What, answer me! I can't trust all these rumors flying around, you know how girls gossip!"

Sasuke sipped his vanilla coke, "Hey, boys gossip too."

Naruto mercilessly stabs a big glob-thing identical to the one sitting on my plate in frustration. "Sasuke!"

The ebony-haired beauty just shrugs it off and turns his cheek. Naruto's positively fuming.

"Ok, be that way! _Anyways_, did you know that your mindless fan girls were bullying Gaara today in the hallway?"

I cringe a little at the comment. Being a bully myself and having people scared of me at my old school five years ago makes me instinctively flinch at the mention of being 'weak'. Sasuke looks a little surprised at this too, and turns around enough to look at me at the corner of his eye.

"Really? Who was it? No, don't tell me," He sighs, massaging his temple, "I know—Sakura or Ino, right?"

"Worse," Naruto says solemnly, "Both."

Everyone hisses in sympathy for me. But, since I'm not a very sociable person and therefore doesn't know the popular, nice, hot, whatever-it-is people in our school, I felt sort of confused at my 'misfortune'. Ok, so were those girls _really_ that bad?

Naruto leans in and whispers, quietly, "I heard that they actually bullied this one girl so bad she actually stopped talking for a whole year. She didn't come to school, and she tried to commit suicide twice before she was finally placed into a mental institution under the 'self-mutilation' ward."

Everyone shivers. Except me, of course, since I've had my own share of violence in my life (with me delivering the violent acts, of course).

"There was that one other time," Neji says thoughtfully, putting down his fork, "Where they thought this one guy was gay and so that actually constructed a bunch of paper-mache penises and glued them all over his locker. All of them had the same words written in neat sharpie on the side—'suck me'"

Everyone gags. Except me. Again. We all look at Sasuke, who's eating seafood dumplings and paying no attention to us whatsoever. He looks up.

We stare.

He blinks. "What?"

"Horror stories?" I suggest in a trying-to-inform-you way, "About Ino and Sakura?"

He shudders, like a bad memory just passed by his mind. "Damn, there's too many to count.. I _am_ their 'idol' right? They've tried to ambush me so many times it isn't funny…"

We all lean closer to him as he continues, "Once, when I was going to the bathhouse, I felt myself being watched. Every time I looked back, though, I didn't see anything. When I was almost there, however, I spotted the blinding light of a camera on flash and knew instantly it was one of my fan girls. I walked faster, then, before I knew it, the ground fell from below me. Luckily I caught onto the edge, pulled myself up, and ran full speed all the way to the bathhouse until I actually got there."

We wait. "Go on…"

"Hinata, your cousin, Neji, told me later that Sakura had planned to catch me in a pit she'd dug in the middle of the road (who knows how?). Neji—" Sasuke shudders, looking at the unblinking blank-eyed boy, "I didn't know how Hinata had it in her, but she started to describe _in full detail_, exactly what Sakura was going to do to me once she caught me. It had something to do with _ropes_ and _chains_ and _candlesticks_ and lots and lots of pictures." Neji and Naruto start gagging while I keep staring at the Uchiha.

"What?" My eyes narrow, "I don't get it."

Naruto moans, a hand at his throat, "Bondage, Gaara, _Bondage_!"

Neji has a hand over his eyes and is sighing, like an old man. "Girls…"

Sasuke looks at me curiously, hand cupping his chin delicately in an extremely feminine manner. I had to resist the urge to stare at how girly Sasuke looked at the moment. "Hey, you have any odd stories about Sakura or Ino besides that encounter today?"

I move that green blob of goo from the left side of my plate to the right side of my plate. "Hm… not really… well… there was this one time. It was in seventh grade, when I was still pretty dangerous. That pink-haired girl—"

"Sakura," Naruto chirps in. I growl.

"—ok, Sakura, tries to trip me and I grab her ankle and fling her onto the floor. She had a cracked skull and was in the hospital for days." I ruffle my hair and sigh, "Temari was really mad at me for a month, shouting about how I promised to be 'good' and 'not kill' and when I told her I wasn't intending to kill her, just hurt her a little bit, she just totally exploded." I stop. "Uh… Yeah… that's my story."

Naruto's fanning himself with his science notebook, which he'd pulled out of his backpack, "Man. Who knew fan girls were so tough?"

Neji and Sasuke, who had millions of fan girls trailing after them every day, look at each other knowingly.

I sigh.

I will never understand the power of the fan girl, will I?

--

"I'm getting married!"

Kankuro chokes on his bento and spits pieces of meat all over my noodles. I look at him disgustedly, pushing the bowl towards him.

"It's yours now." I inform him.

"Guys!" Temari says exasperatedly, putting down her Pearl Milk Tea. "I'm serious!"

We're all sitting at this weird Chinese restaurant just a block down from our flat in the downtown area of Konoha. The walls were painted this shade of fake, oily red and the chandeliers were more brown and green with age then white. Temari had wordlessly brought us here to eat dinner tonight instead of cooking us a homemade meal (which was good for us because Temari had the cooking skills of an elephant on drugs) and wouldn't tell us why.

Until now.

"Ne-chan," Kankuro chokes out, "You don't even have a boyfriend."

I nod. We would know. Kankuro and I, were, unusually, very protective brothers. Since our family was so shattered and messed up, it made us instinctively try to hold together what fragments of a family we had left with each other. Which meant keeping the family together. Which meant _not letting anyone else in the 'circle' unless they are approved by everyone else_.

Temari put her hands on her hips. "Excuse _me_ if I don't tell you guys every last bit of my social life! I've been dating my _boyfriend_ for three months!"

My can feel my brow twitch.

_Three months_?

Kankuro immediately sits up and takes a hold of the front of my sister's long-sleeve, like he would do to a gangster who had just back talked to him. "_How extensive has your relationship gone? Have you held hands? Kissed? GONE TO BED!"_ He's shouting and everyone in the restaurant turns around in their chairs to stare at us. Temari's turning a shade of red, either from being very, very embarrassed or from being choked by my brother.

"K-kan—" She coughs and struggles to pry his fingers off her shirt, "Kank-kur-r-ro! Le-e-t m-me go!" They wrestle around for a while until the manager of the store rushes in and threatens to kick us out if we 'continue to cause a disturbance'. And Temari calls _me_ troublesome.

After Temari finished taking egg-roll crumbs out of her hair and mopping up the spreading stain of the spilled sweet-and-sour soup while Kankuro's attempting to wipe the mess of orange sauce all over my shirt (I give him a good glare and he shrinks away), we all sit in silence for a good five minutes. Me: twiddling with my food (the scallion-pancakes, not my Kankuro-infested noodles); Kankuro: Attempting to finish his half-eaten bento and looking at my bowl of noodles nervously; Temari: Struggling to stay calm and stabbing her broccoli and beef like it had just told her that _it_ was the one that raped her and dumped her in a street somewhere downtown. Ok, just for the record, that never happened since my sister's so strong she'd probably beat the crap out of anyone who even dares look at her funny, much less grope her.

"So…" Kankuro says, "How long have you been… _engaged_… to… him?"

This was my cue to speak up. "Two weeks ago."

Temari looks up at me, startled. "Wait, how did you know?"

I point to the ring she was fiddling with on her finger. It wasn't extraordinarily big or anything, shiny, silver encasement and had a flower/swan decoration carved to form the outer ring. She blushes light pink.

"The night you came home from 'work'," I say in a low monotone, "You looked like you just won the national lottery or something. You even let me eat all the cookie-dough ice cream in the refrigerator, even though you have a no-ice-cream-after-ten policy. You forgot to brush your teeth. You were _humming_ in the shower. I didn't know what was up, so I didn't say anything."

Kankuro suddenly bangs his fist on the table, causing everyone within a twenty feet radius to jump up in shock, "Oh, so _that _was it? That's the day you let me go to sleep without taking my shoes off even though I'd trekked mud all over the flat!" Temari's eyes narrow.

"_You_ were the one that trekked mud all over our pretty white carpet?" She says slowly. Kankuro looks like a trapped deer in headlights, instinctively putting his fingers into his mouth and starts biting his nail like he would mow the lawn.

"Er…"

I decide to intervene. "When are we going to meet him?"

Temari looked at me, frowning. "Who?"

"Your boyfriend?"

Temari took up her spoon and tapped it against the side of her light-fuchsia glossed lips, thinking. "Oh… haven't thought about that yet…"

I can feel that familiar killer-intent-anger swelling up at the pit of my stomach, slowly rising up my throat, into my mouth and onto my tongue. First she springs on us her intent of getting married, admits she was sneaking around with a man around our backs and then just forgets to arrange a meeting between us? I slowly open my mouth. "Temar—"

A waiter magically appears by my side. "Check?"

We all stare at him.

I can feel my brow twitch.

Talk about killing the mood.

--

Author's Note: I'm figuring out the best way to do things. I need a beta-reader, too, since I seem to make a lot of mistakes concerning homophones and grammar. Please Review!


	3. Name: Two Against One

_To Me:_

_I know you'll get this letter when you're seventeen, but this is you speaking to you now._

_Like, right now._

_I am twelve years old and am a legal serial killer. I've been put under probation by my sister and brother and am forced to wear a bugged collar day and night to make sure I'm not doing anything slightly murderous. The only reason I haven't gotten the death penalty yet was because I'm a minor. I'm not stuck with a life-sentence either because my super-rich father bailed me out big time with some bribe._

_Stupid judges. Stupid Father._

_I don't ask for much in five years-- there is nothing in this world to live or hope for. But there is one thing I want to be desperately sure of:_

_By the time you read this, is Father dead? If so, I'm guessing you, Temari, and Kankuro have moved together in another city somewhere else. I'm betting this is going to happen just several months from this year. It's all because there's some weird political conspiracy going on, and I wouldn't be surprised if my old man dropped dead._

_Happy (or not happy, if you're dead) Future:_

_Sabaku no Gaara_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

At home I plug my iPod into my little iDog and watch it dance and sing or do some weird lame tricks that even a real dog would consider stupid. I'm sitting on my little cot of a bed with only a pair of dark burgundy pants sagging around my feet, singing along quietly to the songs the iDog was dancing to.

I have a whole collection of iDogs: White, Black, Gray, Red, Blue, Green, and Purple. I didn't buy the Orange or Yellow ones since they looked like vomit or pee. Or both. Mixed together. Like the lemon-flavored snow-cones that you could buy at that stall that only opened in the mornings Monday through Friday. I wonder if they really use vomit/pee to flavor their snow-scones. Imagine all those children eating them… not knowing the truth… ok I'm just being ridiculous now. I can't believe I was just thinking about lemon/pee vomit-snow-cones. Ew.

If Temari could read minds she'd have thought I was being too graphic.

But of course, she already knows I'm graphic, so that's not a surprise, is it?

As I watch my little Red iDog dance (my favorite iDog since my favorite color was red), I suddenly get an unimaginably un-Gaara-like idea that makes me want to giggle. Damn I've been hanging around Sasuke and Naruto too much.

I take out the battery and wire set I received as a Christmas present last year from Kankuro (trust him to give me the thing I hate the most), and start getting to work on my iDogs.

Insert massive amounts of instruction-reading, temper tantrums, short-circuits and getting electrocuted.

"You know," Temari says loudly as she's baking brownies in the kitchen (or attempting to make brownies. I've already told you about my sister's cooking abilities), "I haven't heard Gaara's music for some time."

"So?" Kankuro is nervously biting his nails as he IMs all his friends on his laptop, even the ones back in Suna, "I'm glad. I hate Heavy Metal."

How did I hear this conversation when I was busy fixing my iDogs?

Well, my room has a mirror. Right in front of my door, which was open. Right across from my door was the kitchen, where Kankuro and Temari were. And since we lived in a small flat, I could hear every bit of their conversation and watch them at the same time through the mirror as I tampered with my iDogs.

"But don't you think he's up to something?" Temari says, finally finishing making a mess out of the brownie batter (there was more brownie on the floor then in the bowl, if that gives you a clue) and attempting to dump it into an ungreased pan (hey, she forgot).

Kankuro finishes bitingthe nails on his left hand and starts to work on his right. God, I hate nail-biting. It was stupid, disgusting, and made this little 'click-click-click' sound that would get on _anyone's _nerves. I glare at the mirror-reflection of him, knowing full well that he probably couldn't feel my glare unless mirrors could transmit evil auras.

"Maybe," My brother mumbles.

That's when I finish.

If I had been Naruto, I would've jumped straight up in the air shouting, "Done! Yah! I'm the best!" Then I would've done a little 'victory dance' before calling up everyone I knew to tell them my awesome accomplishment.

But, since I wasn't Naruto, I didn't do any of that. I sat there smirking at my creation and slowly started plugging wires into my iDogs.

One… Two… Three… Four… Fi—

"_YOU GOTTA 'XEPT IT CAN'T DENY THE TRUTH THAT LIES BEHIND THOSE EYES_!"

Temari and Kankuro jump out of their skins in fright: Temari, burning herself with the oven and Kankuro almost knocking his precious laptop off the kitchen table. The music was terrifyingly, horrendously _loud_. It wasn't even one voice singing—it was like a dozen voices roaring the same words all at once, a bunch of mini-singer clones singing along to the song.

"What is that?" Temari screeches over the lyrics, sucking her burnt index finger and thumb as she stumbles out of the kitchen, right into my bedroom.

And she stands there, gaping at what sits before her.

"Ne-chan? What's up? Why are you—" Kankuro appears behind my sister, mouth open. "Gaara… what did you _do_?"

There was an army in my room.

An army… of iDogs.

Each one had a wire connecting each of them back to my iPod, which I placed on my screwed-up two-decade old desk. They were all dancing at the same time, moving at the same time, _singing _at the same time. I could even get them to form a heart, or a star, or any other shape. Maybe even my name.

"Watch." I say solemnly. I take out a badly-taped together remote control (Hey, I couldn't find any of the screws in the set and all I had was tape) and press a badly colored in red button (with marker. I have as much artistic talent as Naruto). All the iDogs are caught frozen in position.

I click another (blue) button. The iDogs get onto all fours, turn around, and look straight at my siblings.

Temari and Kankuro stare back.

I press a (green) button.

All the iDogs open their mouths.

"Hello – Temari – Kankuro"

Temari and Kankuro stare at them in silence.

And then, they scream.

"AGH!" Bolting out of the room, I can hear Kankuro running into the study room and locking the doors while Temari just runs out, then pokes her head in again.

"Shut those things off!" She hollers, "It's freakin' creepy!"

I laugh hysterically on my bed for a good five minutes before shakily pressing the 'off' button on the remote control.

I may have had a good time scaring the crap out of my siblings, but deep inside pretty close to where my deep, dark, angry, pit of a hole at the bottom of stomach was, was the thought that echoed in my mind after I'd turned off the lights and gotten ready to sleep—I wouldn't have done something like that five years ago.

No way. I would've been too busy devising up plans and reasons on how and why Temari and Kankuro were going to be killed-- slowly and painfully. It would never have crossed my mind to just scare the wits of them, not kill them.

I stare at the white glow-in-the-dark star glowing right above me, taped onto the ceiling. Does that mean Naruto, Sasuke and Neji have really changed me that much? I mean, I don't get as angry as much, as lonely, or as frightened compared to what I was like when I was twelve.

I'm seventeen now, and am starting to really think about my future.

Do I have a future?

I glare at the glow-in-the-dark star as I feel the beginning of the familiar insomnia creeping on.

--

It's three in the morning, and I'm sitting in the middle of my kitchen, holding a flashlight over my head as I'm shoveling cookie-dough ice cream down my throat. Crouching down like some sort of barbaric beast, I continuously wipe the dribble of ice cream trickling down the corner of my lips with an already sticky napkin in between gulps.

I don't know why I get like this, but I do. Temari says I _do_ know why, its just that I won't 'accept' it and that cookie-dough ice cream was my 'comfort food'. Like Chouji and his 'comfort food' chips. I stop eating and look at my stomach. Poking it, a terrifying thought comes flying through my mind—_ what if I get fat?_

The whole concept is so immediately unfamiliar, the only thing that could satisfy the emptying feeling at the pit of my stomach is to stick more ice cream into my mouth. I never worried about my weight before. Naturally skinny and pale, I never ate much anyways when I was a child. Until, of course, Kankuro introduced me to God's greatest creation ever—ice cream.

I was about fourteen at the time, two years after we'd moved to Konoha. It was summer vacation then, and that particular day was like living in the hottest, sweatiest sauna alive. It really didn't help that the air conditioning was broken, either. Temari was sprawled all over our family couch, bra threatening to fall off her shirtless chest and legs spread wide open skimpily covered by hip-tight short-shorts. She was actually using one of her martial art fans to fan herself, and she was sipping an _almost-completely-iced_ strawberry smoothie she'd bought from down the street.

Kankuro was no where to be found.

Feeling the heat burn me up as well, I had decided to take a cold shower that morning. Even if the city we came from, Suna, was situated in the desert, it didn't really mean we _liked_ the heat. I hated it, actually. The only thing I had really liked back in Suna were those thousands and thousands of acres of sand, piled up in artistic mounds and molds that changed shape and size every hour or so, if you watched close enough.

I shrugged off my shirt and pulled out a wooden chair from the dining table and seated myself in it. Staring at Temari's smoothie, I could almost feel my mouth water. She caught my look at gave a strangled, half-dead gasp.

"No way," She croaked out, "Mine." I growled a little before placing my head onto the table in defeat from pure heat-torture. We laid there for around ten minutes before the front door opened and Kankuro came in, dressed in a very rare pair of navy jeans and dark blue t-shirt. In his arm was a pint of something very, very _cold_. I stared at it.

"Hey, sorry!" He said happily as he dropped the pint on the table, "Went to get some more cereal and decided to get some ice cream while I was at it."

I hesitantly poked the pint. Examining it for poisons, lead, traps or any other sort of foreign material, I finally deemed it safe to eat. Kankuro dead panned.

"Gaara… it's just ice cream. You can have some if you want."

Thus, he opened my world to the cold, melt-in-your-mouth sugary goodness that will haunt my life forever.

And, possibly, make me fat.

I almost put my hand in mouth to bite my nails when I realize that that was a very Kankuro-like thing to do. I feel anger swell up at the pit and I hastily put both my hands down on my table. Ever since I met Naruto, Neji, and Sasuke, I've also gained a multitude of bad habits.

I'm starting to say 'Like' a lot in my sentences, similar to how Temari talks to her girlfriends on the phone for two hours at a time. I've been persuaded to take interest in rap due to Naruto's bad, bad, influence and Neji's trying to teach me etiquette. Something about sitting with your back straight, only use your right hand to lift your cup and you _have_ to place it _exactly_ three inches away from your plate. Or something around those lines—I can't remember half the things he say; after a while, it just flies over my head and my mind just shuts down for a good four fifths of the lecture.

As I far as I know, I can't spot any habits or hobbies I've picked up from Sasuke or Kankuro. Until now.

Argh! I _hate_ nail-biting! No, no, no, no, no!

I'm going to write a post-it note to myself about killing Kankuro tomorrow when he wakes up and stick it on my forehead.

I lap up the last of the ice cream in my bowl and stare at the emptiness, forlorn. I knew I couldn't have anymore ice cream, since Temari would probably find out otherwise. Also…

_I'm going to get fat_. My eyes bulge out as I realize the seriousness of those words. I wobble a little on my chair as I stare at my empty bowl._ I'm going to get so fat I can't fit into the doorway of the school. I'm going to get so fat I can't even move. I'm going to get so fat the students at school will use me as a new trampoline. I'm going to get so fat Temari and Kankuro are going to kick me out of the house because I'm spending too much money on ice cream. I'm going to get so fat I'm going to die of starvation because I can't open my mouth to eat because it's surrounded by fat. I'm going to get so fat I'm going to get a heart attack and die. And then no one would go to my funeral because Naruto, Sasuke and Neji left me because I got too ugly. The only people who would go would be the families of those I've killed, to laugh and kick my dead corpse around like a soccer ball. I'm going to get _FAT!

As my thought process ran overboard, I swear I felt tears swelling up at the corner of my eyes. Don't ask me _why_ I was getting so upset over being fat and abandoned and dying of a heart attack—I just felt this sudden pang of _fear_ and it scared the hell out of me. Stumbling off the chair and causing it to fly backwards with a crash into the refrigerator, I ran to Temari's room.

"Ne-chan!" I wail as I threw myself onto the little blonde form huddling on the bed.

And then, at that exact moment, I _swear_, she punched me right in the face and into the wall without even looking up. Normally, I would've been able to dodge such a weak attack, but I was panicking over the thought that I was getting fat. I touch the place where she punched me—my cheek—and wince.

My sister blinks a little, dark green eyes screwed up tight in the dark. "…Gaara?" She crawls over to me from her bed and looks down on my shivering form, "what are you doing in my room?"

I sniffle (I swear, five years later, I'm still in absolute _horror_. Why the heck was I acting so weak, feminine, and childish at three in the morning?) and jump into Temari's lap. She yelps a little as all a hundred and nineteen pounds of me collide into her, partially out of the weight and partially out of shock. I don't remember _ever_ crawling into Temari's lap before. She hugs me awkwardly.

"Gaara?"

"I—I," I sniffle again, "I'm getting fat!"

Temari looks at me like I had just told her I was secretly a girl and had gotten pregnant with Lee's love child and was planning to elope to the North Pole with him together so we could live in harmony with the nice, cuddly polar bears.

"Gaara," She says slowly, pulling my shuddering form away from her, "Are you ok?" I shake my head 'no' and suddenly start rambling.

"I-I-I was b-being bad and ate ice cream even though you have a no-ice-cream-after-ten rule and I-I was eating and I-I remember that you said that I ate i-icecream because it was comfort food and that made me think of C-Chouji a-and," I took a deep breath, " I j-just _knew_ I was g-going to get _fat_!"

Temari stares at me as I shudder again. She tries stroking my back in circular rings, but it just makes me feel colder, less attached. I keep on feeling like I was going to cry.

_You can't cry_.

I shudder harder.

_You've used up all your tears already._

Temari looks at me, concerned. "Gaara?"

_That day… you gave up all your tears…_

I knew I was being troublesome again. I remember, ten years ago, sitting in someone's lap like this—though it wasn't Temari and I wasn't scared like this.

_You monster! Beast!_

I suddenly stumble out of Temari's grip, and she follows me with her slanted, concerned green eyes. I look at her over my shoulder, at how she looked so generally worried about me and how that feeling at the pit of my stomach was on fire, so harsh, taking over my body.

_All your tears are dried up, washed away, sacrificed. What do you have in its place? What do you have in place of your dry well of tears?_

"Sorry," I speak softly, clutching myself as I feel an old sensation of calmness wash around me, embracing me, protecting me in an excitingly dangerous fashion, "I won't wake you up like that again."

_An endless hole, at the pit of my stomach._

"Gaara—" Temari gets up, tripping over her nightgown, "Wait!"

By that time, though, I was already out of her room and hurrying into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

_Threatening to take me over._

I look at the toilet and did the first thing that came to mind.

I threw up.

--

Author's Notes: I'm SOOOOOOOOOO sorry about this chapter! I forgot to cut off the first two chapters, making this one super long... (cries at mistake) I can't believe I was so stupid... FIXED!


	4. Name: Artists Block

_Kiba:_

I really really really like you and I hope we can date:heart:heart:

I've been watching you for SOOOOOOOOOO long and I hope we can live happily ever after!

:heart: Tee hee:heart: I love your deep husky voice and carefree attitude :coos:

I won't say what my name is, but, if you want a clue ask Sabaku no Gaara.

Yes, that emo-kid with the love-tattoo, ask him. :kanji love:

He'll probably guide me to you immediately:heart:heart:

I :heart: you Kiba-chan:Tee-Hee!

_You Future Wife :Heart:Heart:_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

In art, today, I drew my imaginary friend, Shukaku. Alright, it was my _old_ imaginary friend, because Shukaku went away when I was around thirteen, when I woke up and he wasn't there anymore.

The art assignment was to design and illustrate a 'monster' from our imaginations, and we were given approximately an hour and a half to complete the task. Naruto, Neji, Sasuke and I share the table situated right above the steps towards the football field, giving us a good glimpse of the athletes at their finest.

Neji, being the artistically inclined one out of the four of us, designed a beautiful swan-like creature with the wings of a white-bat instead of feathers, and a tail of glistening thorns and roses. He is intently painting it now with some translucent watercolors, mouth full of two brushes that looked almost exactly the same to me, though he insists that one is square and the other is triangular, as he's painting in the fine detail of the web of veins in the swan's wings with a small, pin-sized brush held between his fingers.

Sasuke, who was a rather decent artist if he cared for it, is drawing a more cartoon-like monster, contrasting Neji's gracefully mythical one. It had large, egg-shaped eyes that bulged out of its large, misshapen skull, and a wide maniacal grin that stretched from ear to ear. It was covered in scaly yellow skin and had the horns of a ram, the torso of a bear, and the lower half of a man. The ebony-haired Uchiha is slowly coloring it in with pigmented inks, for the cartoon look he was aiming for.

Naruto and I were both equally bad artists, with the art skills of a slug trying to draw with a piece of bread twice its size. I couldn't even draw a closed circle. I'd start at the left and loop upwards, then downwards, then back up again and… oops, I missed the line there, heh…

Naruto is frustratingly drawing and erasing, drawing and erasing his monster on his paper, left hand clutching his hair in anger, elbow holding the picture down as he attempted to draw a straight line.

"Ugh!" He growls deep in his throat as he erases his squiggly line, "Dammit all!"

Neji shoots the boy a cool, annoyed look that speaks of shutting up and acting mature, but the blonde is too occupied trying to draw his line. "C'mon, c'mon… c'mon… nooooo!"

Sasuke looks up. "Someone, shut him up, _please_."

"Naruto," I suggest, "Why don't you use a ruler?"

Naruto stares at me blankly for a few minutes, then bangs his head on the table. "Argh!" He moans, getting up from the table and holding his head, "I'm so stupid!"

"Baka."

"Stupid Sasuke-teme, shut up! Don't rub it in harder then it is already you frickin' retard!" Naruto hollers all the way across the room and the teacher (I can't remember her name… name-blankness catching on again…) looks annoyed.

"Naruto," She says coolly, crimson eyes glinting in the light, "If you want to verbally insult someone, go on ahead, but keep it to yourselves." The other art students snicker, and Naruto shoots them all a defiant look.

"Yeah, yeah," He mumbles as he takes the ruler and puts it on his paper, "Whatever…"

I watch him draw for a few moments, before I return to my own drawing. Shukaku looks more cute then ferocious, and he's even got his back arched up like a cat or something. Compared to Sasuke and Neji's drawings mine's looks like something a kindergartner had drawn on the wall with a crayon using the hand they were weakest with. I sigh, and look over at Naruto's drawing again.

He's having trouble drawing a line parallel to the edge of the paper, and is cursing rather loudly. I put my hand out.

He looks at it.

Slowly he takes my hand.

I slap it away.

"The ruler, baka," I sigh, and he hands me the ruler. Was Naruto's brain permanently shut down or something? I try to draw a line, but since the paper was right in front of him I ended up looping my left arm around his shoulder. I'm so close I can feel him breathe in and out, soft skin rising up and down with his chest. His dusty blonde hair's tickling my nose and I resist the urge to sneeze. The longer I fondle with the ruler, the familiar heart-speeding takes place and I narrow my eyes. He smells faintly of strawberries and I'm overwhelmed by the urge to just snuggle with him and coo at how cute he is. But, since I am Gaara and not my cooing sister, Temari, I promptly ignore the urge and my speeding heart and show him the ruler.

"Watch." I take the ruler and line up the '0' mark at the top left edge of the paper, keeping it away from the top enough so I could make a mark. "Where do you want the most left part of your monster to be at?" Naruto shifts a little, leaning forward as he points towards the three inch mark.

I take my pencil and swiftly make a mark at three inches, then move the ruler down towards the lower left edge of the paper. "You just make the same mark—watch." I make a mark at the three inch mark again after lining up the edge to '0'. I turn the ruler vertically, and show him how, if you connect the two marks together, you get a perfectly straight line. I withdraw my hand from his shoulder and he happily thanks me.

"Great, Gaara! Where'd you learn that?"

Sasuke looks up, annoyed, "You dobe, anyone with brains could've figured it out."

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up. You're interrupting everyone's train of thought and focus on their artwork and causing the whole class to slow down."

Naruto tugged his hair with both hands, "Just shut up! You stupid bastard!"

I look down, concentrating on Shukaku again. That instant where I felt like hugging Naruto had passed. It was just a small fancy, and it was obvious he was totally oblivious of how I sort-of felt towards him. A faintly familiar pain pinches at my heart, and I wince.

Unaware, I put my hand in my mouth and started biting my nails.

--

I'm walking towards my flat when I spot a man trudging up the street behind me. It's around three in the afternoon, a little after we'd been let out of school, and I was weary from carrying a twenty-pound backpack full of textbooks and notebooks up a sixty degree slope uphill. Why is our flat situated at the top of a damn hill? It wasn't much of a problem for Temari or Kankuro, since they drove up and down the hill in the Chevy, while I had to drag myself up here every day?

I turn around and boldly stare at the man following me. He spots me staring at him and stops.

He's dressed in a heavy brown overcoat and some dark gray slacks. Looking to be around twenty-one, twenty-two, his soft, well-taken care of hair is tied back in a tight high ponytail with a black band. He has large, solemn brown eyes that shone a little too knowingly for a man just in his twenties, and a deep faded scar ran from the bottom of one eye to the other, across the bridge of his nose. Slung across his shoulder is a dark green tote bag, slightly faded from use and age.

He's staring at me, contemplating something, a finger at his lips. Finally, he shifts his bag into a better position and walks towards me.

"Excuse me," he murmurs, softly, "But are you Sabaku no Gaara?"

I stare at him.

"…yes…?"

I can't seem to shake the feeling that I've seen this man before.

His face breaks out into a small, forlorn smile that spoke more of sadness then of joy, and he reaches into his tote bag. "I have something for you… a note… here." He hands me a thick package of papers (a note? What kind of 'note' is this?) and bows a little. "It's sent by someone who should be very important to you. And, pardon me, I have to be going now—I'm already late enough as it is."

He adjusts the strap of his bag again and waves a silent good-bye. I look down at the 'note' and see a frilly, valentine-esque envelope sitting neatly on the stack of papers. Alarmed, I looked up. "Hey you forgot—"

I pause.

There was no one there, and, when I looked down the hill, no one walking down the hill either.

I feel my arms prickle in alarm.

There was no way someone could've walked that fast down a two mile sixty degree slope downwards. Unless they tripped, but then, they'd be dead.

Feeling a little spooked, I finish my ascent to my flat, head in, shut the door, and lock it tightly closed.

--

"Hey, Freak." A boot collides into my head and stays there. I barely wince at the pain, and I grab the foot and lift it off my crimson hair, turning around to face the invader in the process. He's lean, and a little muscular from the way his biceps flexed a little every time he moved his arms, taller then I am and had long, black hair just a tad lighter then Sasuke's. Two cold silver rings looped through both of his ears, and I notice, faintly, the boot I'm holding was made of real leather and looked to be handmade.

"What do you want?"

He tugs his boot away from my grip and crouches down to my level, elbows in his lap as he leans closer to examine me. His hair is tied up tightly in a high ponytail, which seemed to be as stiff as steel as it barely moved while the boy turned his head from side to side.

He looks pretty familiar. Oh, yeah, that's right. He's in my Physics class, sitting next to that annoying dog-obsessed boy that had jabbed me right in the head with his mechanical pencil.

"Nothing much," The boy informs me in monotone, "I was just wondering why you're sitting out on the curb in front of school in the wonderful cold." I think he was being sarcastic about the 'wonderful cold' part of his statement, but I wasn't too sure.

I glare at him. "None of your business."

"Nonsense." He finally untangles himself from his crouch and plops down besides me, two legs stretched out before him as he leans back, "Everything I deem my business is my business. Now spill."

I can feel my annoyance bubbling up inside me as I stare at the dark-haired teen. Shifting his weight to his hands, he was looking rather bored, as if he was just asking me my secrets just for the sake of filling up his boredom. His tone, too, sounded almost creepily like Neji's. Especially that 'your business is my business' crap he was trying to imprint on me. I dig my headphones out of my backpack and place them carefully over my ears.

"Hey," He says, looking at me, "Don't ignore me."

I take out my iPod and scroll down my list for just the right song to tune out Shikamaru.

Shikamaru.

Holy crap! I remembered someone's name!

I stare at him with my mouth slightly open, and he stares back. "What? Is there something on my face?" I immediately shut my mouth and shake my head. Pulling a knee towards my chest, I rested my elbow on the joint as I flipped through some more odd songs.

Was Kankuro messing with my song album again? Or maybe Temari?

I _swear_ I would never, in my right mind, download 'Bad Boy' by _Cascada_ onto my iPod. I stare at the song then decide to move on. Damn, what were all these weird songs doing on the (almost) most important thing in my everyday life?

'Since you've been gone', by _Kelly Clarkson_.

'Invisible' by _Ashlee Simpson_

Random songs sung by… _Jesse McCartney_?

I examine my iPod screen blankly. Yup, Temari's been hacking into my iPod.

I suddenly feel a large, heavy, _furry_ thing land on my back and squawk in surprise. Later, I'll be kicking myself in the face for _squawking_ but now, I was just worrying about this giant thing crushing my chest, face, and (no!) iPod into the concrete.

"Hey," I hear Shikamaru's voice faintly above me, "Nice job, Akamaru."

Akamaru? Why won't my brain come up with name-people recall? Wait, Akamaru's a dog, right? That explains the furriness…

I struggle to lift the giant mutt of my slim form, finally resorting to turn around onto my back and kicking it into the air. It gives a huffish bark at my rude conduct and jumps off me, miffed. Whatever, I don't care what a stupid dog thinks—it's just a _dog_. I cough and roll up into a little hunched ball, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of me when that insane beast had tackled me.

After dutifully regaining my breath, I pick up my iPod and attempt to slip away.

Attempt fails.

"Hey, you ain't going anywhere," Dog-boy, who was obviously very close by anyways due to his dog being here, grabs my arm roughly, "Shika and I want to talk to you about something."

I look at the boy's hand on my arm for just a moment before I felt my whole body being tugged down to the gates towards P.E. My eyes widen—"Hey!" But the other boy didn't seem to care about his violence towards me and continued to drag me, no matter how I skidded or scrambled.

In the back of my mind, I knew I could just easily grab a hold of his other arm and twist it out of its socket. But then, my mind answered for me-- I'd get in trouble.

When did I use to care about getting in trouble?

The P.E. is blinding, with its harsh bright lights and sweaty atmosphere. I can see the current gym coach, Maito-Sensei, yelling at the huffing teens to hurry up—two more laps! I surprised myself again; how in the world did I remember _his_ name too? Maybe I was regaining my ability to remember things like this. But then, I could barely figure out the names of the students running around, so…

Kiba takes my shoulder and slams me up against the wall. Shikamaru, whose hands are in the pockets of his dark black pants, sides up next to the brown-haired boy and peers into my face. I glare at him defiantly.

Kiba raises his hand and I wince, expecting a blow to the face.

However, no blow came.

"Please!" I feel surprised as the taller boy suddenly clasps my shoulder and shakes me, "You've got to help us!"

"You," Shikamaru drawls, "Not me."

Kiba shoots a dirty look with the other boy, then looks back at me—all puppy-eyes and goo-goo-ga-ga. "Alright fine—Please! You've got to help me!"

I stare at him.

"Help you with what?"

--

I want to watch TV but I can't.

Kankuro's big ass is in the way.

He's sprawled all over our couch—all a hundred fifty-seven pounds of him stinking up the red leather with his horrible B.O. I look down upon his form (I note his hairy back, his saggy boxers and his fat, probably hairy, ass) then stomp off to the bathroom.

After finding what I needed to be sufficient in chasing my brother off the couch, I come back, weapon on hand. "Kankuro," I say in a low, gravely monotone, "Get off the couch. Now."

He sort of wiggles, flipping his head over to the other side as he hugs _my_ teddy-bear shaped pillow and shifts his feet into a better position. "Numph." He mumbles, drool dribbling down his chin. I can feel my already thin patience snapping. Why had he slept on the couch yesterday instead of on his own bed?

I then remember Temari and Kankuro's argument the other day—something about how irresponsible Kankuro had been and how he could've maybe caused me to go into severe trauma if I had been at home at the time (which I wasn't, thankfully) and how Kankuro had forgotten about the soup and it had all burnt up, and instead he was too busy screwing around with this girl in his bed and it had gotten all dirty when he —ew, I won't talk about it.

Let's just say that Kankuro had been fooling around, and was kicked out of his room.

"Kankuro," I threaten a little louder, voice higher pitched, "Get off _now_."

He doesn't move, except for a little twitch of his butt, which causes me to lose my temper.

"_Kankuro_!" I roar and attack him with my weapon.

He doesn't do anything at first, and then his eyes fly right open, shocked and horrified, as he scrambles up out of the couch. "Shit!" He bellows, doing a little dance around the room trying to wipe the smell away, "Gaara, you little brat!"

I point the bottle of perfume closer to his face.

"You want me to spray again?"

He stops, though his arms are still trying to caress and massage the sickening smell of magnolia and vanilla away from his normally sweat-smelling clothes and skin. His eyes narrow in this way that causes him to look like a fat bulldog (I am so serious, swear to God). "You are in so much trouble once Temari finds out you've been wasting her two hundred dollar perfume using it as a water gun to attack me when I'm _sleeping_."

"I'm trying to _watch TV_." I say, teeth gritted, "And you wouldn't move your fat ass."

He grabs the front of my shirt, and I almost faint from the smell of magnolia, vanilla, sweat and testosterone mixed together, "What did you say about my ass?"

Cue evil sister-interruption time.

"Kan-_kuro_! Gaa-_ra_!" Temari happily kicks open the door and then stops, mid sentence, smile plastered on her face as she feels the impending doom surrounding us violent and half naked brothers (Kankuro's wearing a white manly tang-top and boxers while-- I admit-- I'm not wearing anything besides my boxers and a large baggy white tee that goes down mid-thigh). He has me by the shirt, there's drool on the couch, and I was aiming her favorite perfume at his face.

Her eyebrow twitches.

"Kankuro," She drawls, slowly, deliberately, setting the groceries on the counter and placing her hands on her hips, "…What's going on?"

Note that she does not say my name. Even though she's verbally blaming Kankuro, I can just feel her gaze burn me up. I believe Kankuro's just as scared of her as I am right now.

"Ne-ne-chan…" He stammers like an idiot, "Um… what are y-you doing home?"

She looks at both of us, eye peeled open with green irises drilling holes into our faces, "Alright, if Gaara puts my _perfume_," her eye twitches a little, "back into the bathroom and _both of you_ get clothes on, I'll forget everything that just happened and won't say a word." We stare at her, then bolt.

Ten minutes later I'm in a long red-sleeve under a black tee, navy jeans hanging loosely by my ankles while Kankuro has on his black turtleneck, black sweat-jacket-thing, black beanie, black drape-over hat, black artist's pants and black socks. I narrow my eyes at his fashion sense and he growls at my bare neck.

Kankuro has this belief that _no one_ should have a bare neck. He makes this point by wearing a dozens of sparkly 'bling' things, three chokers, two black cross-skull-things that look like they're going to scrape off all his skin, and two chains doubled over his neck. Every year for Christmas he sends Temari at _least_ three ornate necklaces and me two dog tags. I give the dog tags to Neji, who needs them for his dog tag art project (self-employed and he's been working on it for at least five years).

Temari puts her hands on her hips and smiles. "The reason I was so happy when I came in…"

Kankuro and I lean forward, Kankuro jingling as all the necklaces bang into one another on their descent downwards because of gravity, "is…"

She throws her hands up in the air, "I've gotten Yuki's ok to come to our house tomorrow to visit!"

I can feel my jaw drop to the ground.

Kankuro coughed. "Um, Ne-chan, sorry to burst your bubble but our house is a mess… you don't want us to make a bad impression on your boyfrie--, sorry, fiancé, right?"

Temari grins and I can feel goose bumps rise up at the extent of evilness plastered onto her face.

"That's why today," She announces happily, "Is Clean-Up day!"

Kankuro and I groan.

"But Ne-chan—"

"Temari—"

"—I have a date today with Mina, I can't _possibly_—"

"—Naruto, and I promised I'll be there so I can't—"

"make it—"

"Does it have to be _today--?"_

Temari bangs the coffee table and we all jump at least three feet into the air. "SILENCE!"

We stare.

She grins, baring her teeth. "You _are_ cleaning the house. You are cleaning the house _now_."

I sort of timidly raise my hand. "Um… Naruto?"

She considers.

"Ok, fine. Gaara, you can go with Naruto."

Kankuro complains, "Hey why does _he_ get to shirk cleaning duty and _I_ have to stay home?"

"Because Gaara is a serial killer!" My sister roars into his face, "And we are cleaning! NOW!"

I grin.

--

"Wait, what? Give me that!" An irritated hand tries to take a hold of a thick package of well-worn papers from another.

I have found that an extensive examination of hands can tell you many things about a particular person.

Naruto's hands are a little large and soft, dark tan with calluses from guitar-playing and intricate grooves all over his white palms. They're always slightly dirty—but not disgusting oily dirty—a dry, soft sort of dirty, like a layer of soft sand covering every inch of the skin around his fingers.

Sasuke's hands are white all over, smooth and slender and just a little clammy. They're as big as Naruto's, but not as wide. Every nail is carefully buffed and done over with clear nail polish so they shine like dew drops in any light, and the hands are always clean. If they were pushed under an examination table without the examiner knowing it was Sasuke, they could have been mistaken for girl's hands.

Neji's hands are actually quite small—smaller then mine, even. When resting, they're always closed together—not tightly, like Sasuke, but casually. Never spread wide-open like Naruto, or half-curved like mine. The back of his hands are slightly tanned, and the way his skin sort of rests upon each finger tells most people that these hands are always in good use. Never as clean as Sasuke's and never as dirty as Naruto's, Neji keeps them clean enough so that he could eat food with them, but never clean enough to make them smell like alcohol. He wears a small green-jeweled ring on the index finger on his left hand—announcement that he is the only one out of the four of us who actually wears jewelry (charm-necklace, green-jeweled ring, topaz anklet, sometimes barrettes in his hair).

My hands? A cross between Neji's and Naruto's hands. I'm a little tanner the most, but definitely not as tan as Naruto. I have calluses as well, from playing guitar, and the skin on the back of my hands is filled with deep welts and scars of old memories long past. I sometimes wear gloves to school, because people stare at how grotesque my hands are—especially how I always keep my nails painted white, black, red or all. They are bony and small for my age, but not as small as Neji's, and sometimes I hate my hands for looking the way they do.

These hands belong to a forty-year old, while I was only seventeen. How would my hands look thirty years from now?

Naruto's finally gets a hold of the papers and lifts them above his head triumphantly. "Yes!" He shouts, happily, "I, Sir Naruto, have finally surpassed the Dragon Gaara in the fight for _love_ and _justice_!" Neji, who's slurping a vanilla malt _and_ chewing peppermint gum at the same time, rolls his eyes. I am still amazed at his capacity to chew gum in _any_ situation.

"Naruto," the brunette orders in a surprisingly clear and tenor-like voice, "Sit down."

Since Neji is our residence bass, most people are actually surprised when they find his natural voice is actually a light tenor, higher pitched then Sasuke's. Of course, since Neji is _musically and artistically talented in all aspects except for tattooing_, he has an unusually high vocal range, from deep bass to what can even be considered as soprano. Of course, don't tell him I said that or he'll smack me.

"What?" Naruto goes all pouty-lipped and puppy-eyed, "I'm just sharing my joy." Neji sighs, takes out his gum, and sticks it into his napkin.

I know he only does this when he's about to lecture.

"Naruto," Neji says, flatly, fingering his charm necklace habitually, "The world does not revolve around you. I know it is important to share your work with other people, such as us, but is not necessary for you to announce your accomplishments to the whole world. Most of the said world does not care. Only we," He points to all of us in succession, "Will probably be the only ones to give you useful feedback. So please refrain from shouting out for everyone to hear, and instead, chose to talk in a normal voice such to avoid everyone else from hearing our conversation."

We all stare at him, and he adds, "Thank you."

"Damn." Naruto sighs, slouching back into his seat, "Neji, you're way too high-strung. Relax. This _is_ a café. Have _fun_." The older boy shrugs and digs into his backpack for another stick of gum.

We're all sitting down by a really expensive café shop right next to the Hyuuga Mansion, around two blocks away in this really fancy shopping strip right separating the rich (Neji, Sasuke, Naruto) from the poor (Me). The four of us usually trickle in here one at time at around one to two on Saturdays, and have become our favorite friend-connected tradition. It's our official 'catch-up' time, where we can gossip as long as our parents allowed us (which was late, since almost all of us own a car except for me, but I have a motorbike, so it's ok).

"So you got a letter…" Naruto drawls, slowly as he examines the stack of papers he had so presumptuously stolen from me, "From your dad?"

I can feel Neji and Sasuke's gazes drill holes into my skull.

I take another bite of my banana split (my all-time favorite ice cream dessert besides Caramel Turtles). "Uh… yeah."

Sasuke's pale complexion, paler then mine when I was still in sixth grade (I've tanned up quite considerably since moving here) stands out stark white against his black hair, blue headband (he still wears that dorky thing no matter how many I times I tell him its stupid!) and black turtleneck. "You said," He says, "Your father died."

I sighed, eating another bite of my banana split, "_Yes,_ Sasuke, you are _so_ smart. The _reason_ I moved here is _because_ of my father's death in the _first place_."

He narrows his eyes. "Then how can he send you letters?"

"His will," Naruto speaks up, "It's his will."

"What?" The ebony-haired boy turns around in his seat to look at the blonde, who is intently staring back. "How do you know that?"

"It's right here?" Naruto holds up the sheets of paper.

I sigh.

--

_Dear Gaara:_

_I am not going to bother with formalities, rights, or laws with you. I have known you ever since you were born and you have not cared for either of the above any time in your whole life. I have to say, I am disappointed._

_This is just a letter to tell you that they (they being the justice system) have (finally) found your father's will. That smart old guy had hid it in his fourth diary smack dab in the middle, folded up five times so it was almost undetectable. But anyways, we found it, and now we're here to read you what you got, right?  
_

_Well…_

_I've included a copy of your father's will below… you knows, it's filled with all that junk about 'I dedicate my fifth contract of blah to blah' and 'I must say I encourage the use of blah for my blah so blah, my blah…' Yeah, you get the point._

_But the most important point for you and your siblings is on page 43.1.2.b. Read it. You'll be SO shocked. _

_Happy Family, Happy Health, Happy Living?_

_From: _

_Your (wonderfully and ever so kind) Lawyer, Pre-Family Guardian and Wonderful Mentor,_

_Baki._


	5. Name: To Be or Not to Be

_Sunday Night's Horrible Dinner:_

Temari: Hey guys! This is my fiance, Yuki!

Me and Kankuro: (monotone) Hi Yuki...

Yuki: Hello! What charming little children!

Me: (thinking) You smart alecky asshole you think you can win us over with _that _kind of flattery?

Temari: Why don't we all sit down for dinner?

(All sit down at dining table. Temari wisely ordered takeout today)

Yuki: So... What grade are you in?

Me: Are you talking to me?

Yuki: Yes.

Me: Eleventh.

Yuki: Oh, so you're a sophomore!

Me: No, I'm a junior.

Yuki: Oh... my bad.

Temari: (pats his head like he's a dog) Now, Gaara, don't be mean to Yuki, he's an artist, not a mathematician.

(Kankuro and I exchange looks of disgust)

All: (eats dinner)

(Insert Awkward Silence)

Yuki: (slowly puts hand down Temari's pants)

Temari: (blushes and giggles) Tee-hee, Yuki!

Me: (steps on Yuki's foot)

Yuki: Ow! You little--!

Me: (acts like nothing happened)

Yuki: (twitches)

Me: Do you like deer?

Yuki: (looks puzzeled) Uh... why?

Me: Just because.

Yuki: I don't like deer because they smell bad and poop a lot.

Kankuro: You poop a lot too.

Temari: Kankuro! (pats Yuki on the head again) Don't listen to either of my brothers, they're both insane. And I don't like deer all that much either. One peed on me once.

(Temari and Yuki exchange lovey-dovey glances)

Me: (picks up plate and puts it in sink. Walks down hall)

Temari: Where are you going?

Me: My room. (slams door. Feels satisified as all paintings and furniture in the house shake on impact)

_Moral of the Story: I liked Shikamaru better._

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

I promised dog-boy and Shikamaru (I still remember _his_ name, at least) I'd help them, and I would. But, obviously, it was something beyond my control.

"What does your note mean 'ask Sabaku no Gaara'?" I say exasperatedly as I examine the little frilly love note in my hands, "I don't talk to anyone… How would I know…?"

Dog-boy groans, ruffling his hair, "Damn it! Shikamaru I _told_ you that he won't help! Who wrote this stupid note, anyways?" We're seated in the back of the drama class stage-seat bleachers thing, Shikamaru and Dog-boy sitting a step below me on the rungs while I'm squinting at the letter in the dark.

Neji's singing some musical-thing on stage and half the class is falling asleep.

It wasn't because of his lack of singing-talent. Actually, out of the whole class and maybe the whole school even, Neji's voice and singing abilities are so remarkably and unusually skilled and way more advanced then the average student that even the Drama Teacher stands in awe of his awesome vocal chords.

The reason behind our yawning was all the Drama Teacher's fault.

"Hyuuga," The brown-haired sensei had beckoned him onstage the first ten minutes of class, "I just recently wrote a song for a musical I'm writing and I think you have the perfect voice for the part. Will you sing for me?"

Neji, who is always the teacher's pet, had nodded and took the paper, lifting himself onstage.

Ending up now, thirty minutes later, still reciting things about _'Fair Maidens'_ and

'_Wondrous Knights_' who were actually the love children of '_Thy Monstrous Beast_' and

The Queen and how they were off to '_go see the wizard_'. Ok, that wizard part was made up, but you know what I mean.

"For the sake of me, I cannot say…" Neji squints, showing nervousness only by fiddling with his little charm necklace, "…that your love has vanquished all… death from my heart?" He pauses, then sets the papers down.

"Sensei, I don't think I'm suited for this part at all…" He fiddles with his necklace even more, even placing it into his mouth several times (he only does this when he's _really_ nervous), "I seem to have the correct voicing for the music, but my personality cannot relate…"

I'm only slightly paying attention, still trying to dissect who it was writing a silly _anonymous_ love letter to dog-boy. Was it the same person who wrote the anonymous note to Naruto? How would I know who wrote it? Was it someone I know?

"Is it possibly someone you know?" Shikamaru asks me in a low tone and I shoot him an irritated glance. I _hated_ it when people did that—even more then Naruto (who gets pissed whenever Sasuke accurately guesses his next word). I quickly fold up the letter and prop my chin in my hand, glancing at the two boys below me at the corner of my eye.

Suddenly, an idea dawned on me.

"Hey," I say, a little excitedly (or as excitedly as an ex-serial-killer can get), "I think I know who—"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"

I jolt from my speech and I and everyone else in the room swivel their heads in the direction where the cry had been heard. Being drama class, it wasn't unusual for random outbursts to suddenly shake the classroom apart, and were actually very entertaining as it got us out of class work _and_ gave the teacher a good reason not to give out homework today.

When I turn my head around, I expect to see one of the more over-spontaneous students to be whining, like Lee (is the world ending, or did I just remember another name?) or this weird brown-haired girl that had braces. What I don't expect to see is one of my best friends, tears almost falling down his cheeks, almost biting the little crystal-turtle charm hanging from his necklace off and choking on his sentences while trying to talk to the teacher.

"B-but—s-sensei!" He's got that teary trace of desperation in his voice now, slowly chewing on the chain of his necklace, "I-I j-just can't!"

It was not every day Hyuuga Neji is standing just ten feet away from you, almost crying and holding a pale, innocent-looking piece of paper scrunched up in his hand.

I stare.

Shikamaru stares.

Dog Boy stares.

Everyone else in the classroom stares.

The drama teacher is trying to console the poor boy because the contents on the sheet of paper he was holding had so _obviously_ affected him, "Now, Hyuuga, its not that bad—I don't know what's with that and you but you can just—"

Neji's temper flies loose, "Sensei! I said I can't work with him, ok? I can't work, so I can't work! So just deal with it!" He completely crumples up the sheet of paper as the drama teacher's expression widens and gapes.

"Excuse me--?"

Turning heel, the senior boy runs full-speed out of the classroom, throwing the crumpled piece of paper violently against the wall as the door slammed behind him. We all stare at the sort of swinging door that had refused to close due to the amount of force applied to Neji's raging closing, and we all listen to the pitter-pattering of his feet running down the hall. We stare at the paper fluttering, lifeless, to the floor, then to the lurid drama teacher.

We stare for a long, long time.

He sort of traces his chin-guard, troubled, as he turns to us. "Ok, break it up—class is going to be dismissed a little early today ok? So just go." He waves us off and we quietly scurry off to our next class like quiet little mice (seriously… like the mice in our old living room in Suna…).

Dog-boy manages to grab his love letter back from my hand and he and Shikamaru stumble out of the classroom loudly gossiping with Lee, who was looking pretty troubled (ok, Kiba was the one doing most of the gossiping and Lee being troubled was just weird).

As I pass by the door I quickly pick up the crumpled up piece of paper on the floor and stuff it into my jean pocket.

--

I'm walking down the hall, pushing past hordes of rabid, mad, hormonal-raging teenagers aiming to get a good pinch of my butt, trying to find a bare spot where I can quickly check my schedule when I finally see a small empty space next to the passageway to Physics.

No one ever dared go near the physics lab if they had a choice, due to both broken lights in that hallway and the teacher's habit of looking at the students like they were all pieces of scrumptious meat that he couldn't wait to get a hold of. Feeling secure that I would not be bothered in a place like that, I push and pry myself to the space and round the corner.

And then I stop, and gape.

Naruto and Sasuke are making out.

On the floor.

In front of Professor Orichimaru's Physics Lab.

With Sasuke's hands up Naruto's shirt and a knee in between his thighs.

And Naruto with his arms draped around the taller boy's shoulders, chest arched forward. In _pleasure_.

And me, standing there, staring at them while they stop kissing and stare at me.

Cue moment-of-silence.

"G-Gaara…" Naruto stammers, a little, pushing Sasuke off of him as if I was homophobic and was about to go on rabid-rampage or something.

I think he was just frightened by the killing-intent expression rising on my face.

There were two sides of me that were arguing about this situation as I stare at Sasuke get up irritably from where Naruto had thrown him, brushing off specks of dust from his nice navy blazer.

There was that part of me that was their best friend, and couldn't believe that there had been something like this going on for so long without me exactly knowing. Of course, I had known their small relationship but I hadn't realized it had come to the point where both of them were eager to start jumping out of their pants.

The other side of me was my crush-on-Naruto side which was threatening to take me over, take out my switchblade, and slice Uchiha Sasuke into a million, tiny bits and pieces. This side was raging inside of me, beating at my heart with a miniature hammer making me immediately aware at how mixed my expression must be.

I felt like laughing, crying, and killing someone at the same time.

Naruto's looking sheepish and apologetic, trying to come up with the words to explain the situation away in a logical manner, while Sasuke's just standing there, looking at me in a way that asked if I had a good reason to speak badly of their relationship. I open my mouth, then close it, gaze hardening as I see the edge of a smirk creep onto the Uchiha's face.

The little crush-on-Naruto side has now taken out a butcher's knife and is starting to sink it into my heart. The _pain_ just causes me to take a step back, throwing my backpack over my shoulder in a faster-then-normal fashion. Looking down, so that they couldn't see the entireness of my face and therefore can't decipher my expression, I mumble, "Sorry, I'll leave you alone…"

Naruto swivels back, reaching for me as I rush down the hall—"Gaara!"

But by then, I'm already gone, melting into the hordes of students intent on their next class, totally unaware of the discontent and discomfort blossoming right in front of them.

--

There is absolute silence at our lunch table, a silence that has not been there at all anytime in the past.

Naruto's poking at his food and refusing to look at me, shooting glares at Sasuke in the meantime.

Sasuke doesn't seem to care and is eating away at his meat bento like nothing has happened.

Neji is nowhere to be found, and it has been reported that he wasn't in any of his classes today after Drama.

I'm sitting here, trying to eat in the silence and continually looking at the half-sheet of paper I had snatched from my escape out from Drama class, the paper that had caused Neji to be so upset and leave in the moment I needed him the most.

Though he didn't look like it, Neji was probably the voice of reasoning in our little group of loners. Of course, what else would you expect from an A+ honors student planning to go to Harvard and the Student Council President for seven consecutive years, no less? Although to the rest of the world, he was the perfect teenager, we knew that wasn't the case.

When we first met Neji, he was a mess.

It was during the Junior High pep assembly, second year. I was still wary of other people—especially Sasuke—and was uneasy when Naruto had selected Sasuke and I as 'assembly buddies' in the auditorium. In other words, he dragged us to our seats and forced us to sit next to him throughout the whole thing.

The air smelt like burnt paper, testosterone, gum and cotton candy, while the whole auditorium was a darkened shade of burgundy that shone even darker in the dim light. The stage was brightly lit, however, so each and every representative and student council member could be seen from even the furthest seats in the back with no problem.

I slumped in my chair as this year's goals, prospects, representatives, successes and failures were read out loud by the large, fat principal in a deathly boring monotone. This man's voice just had this _tone_ that made you want to get out a bazooka and blast him and his throaty voice chords out into oblivion.

He read from the script for about twenty minutes, at least, then started introducing the three students from each grade he had chosen to give a three to four minute speech about goals, overcoming obstacles and 'being spectacular pupils'. I always thought pupils were those holes in the middle of your eyes.

The first girl was from first year, small, mousy and had one bucktooth and a normal other, making her teeth stand out like a shining beacon. Even more shining then my red hair, of course. She lisped some weird comedy act where she was acting out two people at once about the importance of goals and how they helped you become a successful student in the future. Hearing her voice was almost as bad as hearing the principal talk.

She was quickly ushered off the stage after four minutes (she was still reading but it was obvious she'd never make it in the time limit) and our year's representative went up to read. This was probably one of many instances where Shikamaru has wiggled his way into my life. Maybe this is why I can remember his name so easily.

He was an ok presenter, first starting out with a sort of dry joke that talked about how most students start slacking off in junior high since they felt it was unimportant, then he dragged us into his main point by listing a bunch of facts on how blah percentage of the people from a junior high who got a blah average then went on to either drop out of high school, get into drugs, get pregnant during teenage years (for girls) and become fathers during teenage years (for boys). The way he spoke made a lot more people sit up straight and listen, including me. Maybe it was the way he used his words and the tone of voice he chose—casual, laid-back and matter-of-fact. We just felt more _connection_ with him then most other students' speeches, and, before we knew it, it was over and he was off the stage.

The third year student was a lot quieter, shyer and meeker then Shikamaru could ever be. Standing upright in front of more then three hundred students, his hair was pulled back in a loose braid with white barrettes holding bangs back from his eyes. A white linen cloth surrounded his head, creating a much cuter effect then Sasuke and his dorky-looking navy headband (which he had yet to take off…). Eyes a dark hazel, he was wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue jeans, and such clean white sneakers that it was quite obvious they were either new or unused. He was nervous, hands looking sweaty from the reflection it was giving off in the stage light, and he had this mixed-pieces expression flitting across his face as if he wasn't sure if he would rather bolt, stay, cry, or scream at the situation he was being presented in.

"Everyone please welcome our third year student representative," The principal announced proudly, "And Student Council President, Hyuuga Neji. Let's all stop fiddling around and show some respect as he presents his speech." Again, I hated how the principal always added the 'show respect' to every other sentence he said when he opened his mouth. I glowered at him, but the principal was too busy paying attention to Neji. The brunette reluctantly squirmed in the principal's intent gaze.

His eyes darted from the staff, then to the students, and then to the paper sort-of crumpled in his shaking hands. I was looking at him with this odd nasty smirk on my face, and he caught my eye and held it there. A look of determination set on that confused face and he started his speech, "Ladies and gentlemen I am here to inform you of a serious crisis occurring in our school today…" I was still looking at him and Naruto was poking me, trying to get me to stop.

"Gaara," He whispered into my ear, "Don't do that, you're making him nervous…" I can't stop, though, it felt addicting—staring at people and scaring the shit out of them.

Neji gulped again, and hastily continued, "T-this is something that has been k-kept top secret for years in the school, but we all know what it is on some i-inner deep level…" I coughed purposely, and the older boy faltered.

"T-the constant backsliding in this junior high will not continue any longer…" I started snickering at the expression of confusion on his face, which quickly morphed to one of desperate nervousness. "The c-core of bad schooling these days is probably the l-lack of attention teachers issue out o-on b-bullies…" He stopped, gulped, and looked like he was going to cry. "A-and…"

He breathily stopped, mouth a little open as if he was just about to pronounce the next word but couldn't find his voice and looked at the staff that was so anxiously looking at him. He closed his mouth, then opened it again and his voice choked, "A-and…" Putting a hand to his mouth, tears fell from his eyes as he dropped the paper in his hand, turned heel, and ran off the stage into the curtains.

There was an uproar, then, the staff attempting to calm the audience and find Neji at the same time, Naruto yelling at me because he seemed so nervous already and I just made it worse and Sasuke yelling at Naruto to stop yelling at me because we were creating a racket. The teachers decided the best way to solve the issue was to send everyone back to their classrooms and discuss it among themselves.

On the way out of the classroom, however, I managed to sneak away from the crowd and go off Neji-hunting on my own (of course Naruto was pretty pissed about this later, shouting that they were everywhere looking for me and I shouldn't have gone off and blah…). When people ask me why I went after him, my best reply was that I felt a sort of connection with the older boy—that look in his eyes were creepily similar to one I held in my own on days where I felt desperate. Putting my hands into my pockets, I strolled down the hall, looking in empty classrooms and full ones (the teachers yelled at me, of course) when I decided to look outside.

And who do I find sniveling on the steps to the Spring Shrine just two blocks away from the junior high?

His hair was mussed, barrettes gone (they might have fallen somewhere) and his once-white sneakers were covered with dirt. He was sobbing quietly into his knees, curled up into a little ball as he cried. I stared down at him, and I knew he knew I was there because he had stiffened a little when he had heard my footfalls, and he looked up, a little.

I noticed, faintly, that a piece of brown plastic had fallen from his eyes, leaving the eye white and blank. I felt a shiver run up my spine as the fleeting thought that his iris had fallen out of eye passed my brain, and then I realized that the brown-thing was just a contact and that his eye color had already been white.

As I was thinking this, I was staring blankly at the older boy, unaware of my rude conduct.

"What do you want?" He said, quietly, "Do you want to make fun of me too?"

I looked down at him, eyes narrowing.

"No."

He stared at me a little longer, sharply as if tracing every aspect of my posture would help lead him to a closer understanding of me and how I tick. I feel the scrutiny of his gaze and looked back down at him. He wiped his face with a black handkerchief he had dug out of his jeans' pocket and stood up abruptly. Staring at me for a good while longer, he turns around a slowly walked away as I looked after him.

Stopping and turning around, he caught my eye and I caught his—and he said, "Tomorrow, lunch?"

I nodded slowly, and the forlorn boy cracked a smile.

To this day he never told me what he was crying about, and why he had been so upset. Of course, since I was never one to push it, I never asked either, so I guess you could say the event was well-forgotten. But then, it _wasn't_ forgotten, since it's still here imprinted into my mind, fluttering around in my brain as I finish my lunch and stiffly walk off, leaving Naruto and Sasuke alone at our lunch table to finish their meal.

Of course, they probably like it better that way.

--

--

_Ring…ring…ring…ring…_

"…Hello?"

I'm sitting spread across my bed, lamp on my desk half-lit and the digital alarm clock on my windowsill reading 2:07 AM in the dark shadows of the night. Calling someone up at two in the morning would seem extreme to some, but Suna had a six hour time difference from us so it was only about eight there and thus wasn't a problem. I clutch the receiver to my ear, biting my lip and looking at the tattered sheet of paper I had ripped out of the will sitting in front of me.

"Baki-sensei?"

There is a pause at the other end of the line, before the throaty speech of my old-time guardian comes through with static.

"Gaara? What do you want?"

His tone seems surprised that it was me, but not surprised that someone was calling him. Looking at the will, and then to the back of my hands, I say, trying to stay in an unshakable monotone.

"Lots of things have been happening here lately."

"Yes," The older man says, slowly, "But this is the first time you've called me personally in two years." I cringe on the inside at his icy comment, but I know he had neither been expecting me nor wanted me to send him letters or call in the first place, so it wasn't like I was hurting him. When Baki left two years ago, during freshman year, he had given his cell phone number to Temari and his apartment address to Kankuro, just in case anything came up.

Note that he had given nothing to me.

Being a tall, yet stocky and slightly muscular, middle-aged man, he was and still is probably the only thing close to becoming a 'father figure' in my life. When I was born, he had been appointed as a sort of legal and physical guardian for Temari, Kankuro and I. He had been there while our mother grew slowly paler, weaker, sicker, and had been there when _the incident_ happened. He was the one that took care of us, like a parent, but still expected us to know how to take care of ourselves.

When I was charged for being a serial killer and insane, he was the one that took the blame from Father, for raising me up to be a shame to the family. Even towards the end—where he slowly distanced himself away from us because he knew it was about time we grew up properly—he was still the strong, worldly and logically-set man I've always known all my life.

"I don't know. Things are getting hectic…" I examine my bitten nails in distaste. I had actually taped masking tape over my nails so I wouldn't be able to actually bite them, but had then taken it off because it is very hard to masking-tape your nails and try to paint them at the same time. "I wanted to catch you up on some things. Has Temari called you recently?"

"No," I can imagine the man shaking his head with that signature distasteful look in his features, "She called me a lot when I first left, but she gradually stopped after a while."

I pause, then decide to blunder on, "Did you know Temari's getting married?"

I can hear him sputter at the other end of the phone. "What?"

"It's this guy we don't know, too. His name's Yuki and he's a pain in the ass. He was trying to grope Temari through the whole dinner with us, and he's kind of ugly too. I don't like him much."

Baki-sensei is silent at the other end, and I wait for him to recover his composure. Being a lawyer _and_ a guardian for three unruly, obnoxious children has caused Baki to create stone-set habits which include always trying to be cool, calm, and collected, speaking with that now-you-listen-to-me-tone, and always looking at us like we were kids.

In so many ways we still were.

"…do you like him?"

"No."

"I see… is there anything else going on?"

I narrow my eyes as I drill holes the size of Japan into the glass with my almighty glare-of-doom, "My love life has gone down the drain, the only friend that is sensible in my life has chosen to disappear, Temari is getting married to a pervert, I'm picking up habits from Kankuro, I just found out I inherited my Dad's company, I am starting to get fat, my friends are keeping secrets from me and I'm sitting here talking to you, _what do you think?_"

There is silence. I focus on the paper beneath me as I struggle to get my murderous anger under control. Baki seems to be waiting for me to get my murderous anger under control. Why can't I get my murderous anger under control?

"So… why don't you start from the top?"

So I tell him a slightly edited version of my soap-opera-of-a-life, changing Naruto into a girl (as much as it pained me), taking out the mushy gushy parts which he wouldn't have wanted to know anyways and sugar-coating the nice moments. He listens silently at the other end, obviously knowing my story is edited and knowing that I know he knows the story is edited. It was a common occurrence between us while speaking, mind you.

"Alright…" He says, slowly, "What do you want me to do about it?"

"'Respect your elders'," I mimic in a high-pitched voice so uncharacteristically unlike myself, "'Because they know more then you since they have more _experience_'. Therefore, I am taking the advice of my _lawyer_," Baki coughs sheepishly, "and asking for _advice_ because I am only seventeen and you are at least twice my age and thus knows _so much more_."

Any normal person would never have gotten away with back-talking the way I did towards Baki. Before becoming a lawyer, he had gone to the army and lived in the barracks for a good five years, being drilled the necessities of strictness, properness, and accurate behavior in combat. Things that he now drilled into the skulls of anyone unfortunate enough to get in a twenty-mile radius of him these days.

However, no one would've gotten away with sounding so maddenly sarcastic with me, either. Having a reputation in Suna as being a legal serial killer that had gotten away with more then twenty-six killings was kind of nice, sometimes.

All in all, Baki and I had this little mutual agreement between us that I am surprised still existed after two years.

"Ok… then I shall rain down upon you the wisdoms," Here, he coughs again, "of my experiences to help you on your conquest to goodness."

If Baki was here right at this moment I would _so_ punch his teeth out right now.

It's kind of unsettling, realizing it's been two years but it's just like he never left. I always wanted to punch his teeth out when he was still living here, too. Thankfully back then he resided in a room that was not next to mine, which was turned into a study room when he moved away.

"Ok, then," I say, softly, in a low gravely voice I reserved for being _dangerously angry_, "Spill."

And, though I hate to admit it, I listen to him intently as he gives me some tips to help me in my chaotic life.

Because I need all the help I can get.

--

Naruto won't look me in the eye and Sasuke doesn't look at me at all. We're in the only class we all have together—Physics, and we're all trying to avoid each other like the plague. Since Neji's a senior, the only class I have with him is Drama and he hasn't been showing up lately. The crumpled piece of paper I had stuffed in my pocket now belongs to my corkboard wall, yet to be opened and read. I don't know—I think it'll be better for Neji to tell me himself what was wrong, instead of reading it off some worthless note.

Shikamaru's stealing glances at me, first with a look of distaste, then interest, and then finally a mix between irritation and curiosity. He puts his head down, scribbles something on a piece of notebook paper, and then chucks it at my head. I look back at him and catch it in my mouth, almost gagging at the industrial paper-waste taste seeping into my teeth.

Spitting the paper out of my mouth, I suddenly wish Neji was here at this exact moment, offering me peppermint gum. For once, I could've used it.

I'm opening the letter when another paper-cannonball zooms by and hits me in the ear. I look around, but can't spot the person who threw the new little crumpled up piece of notebook paper. Contemplating whether curiosity would win over politeness (Shikamaru threw the note first, after all) I finally decided to go with politeness for the sole sake of proving to myself that I was in control and can resist temptation anytime I damn pleased.

_Gaara:_

_Any clues to Kiba's love letter?_

_My Tel #: (456)-334-9987_

_My Cell #: (854)-224-0245_

_Call when you get a clue_

_Call at Five PM tomorrow _

_Shika_

Slipping the paper into my pocket, I curse myself for promising to help Dog-boy and Shikamaru with their little love-letter problem. Heck, it really had nothing to do with me except the person had referenced me in their little ramble, which meant it was either a person I know, a person I know who knows someone else, or someone in one of my classes.

I had actually almost gotten the answer to the riddle in Drama, but then Neji's little tantrum made me lose my train of thought and I had spent hours yesterday racking up my brain for the missing piece for the sake of solving the mystery quicker because of it.

I sigh, look at Shikamaru, and we exchange an agreeing nod. It was a 'ok I agree to help you but stay out of life nod' and not a 'I'm helping you and now we're best friends' kind of nod. I don't make friends that easily—it actually took me four months to finally accept Naruto as a friend in the first year of junior high, and seven months to finally accept Sasuke. Neji came easier, though, which was good.

As the teacher is talking about velocity and how it affects the world of Physics (of course it affects the world of physics: why else would we be learning it in class? I hate it when teachers act like they were _so_ smart, and I would usually openly show my distaste except that this was _Professor Orichimaru_ and even _I_ didn't want to get into a mess with _him_.) I quietly open the second note.

It's very crumpled up, and the person had the stupidity to use a gel pen to write and then crumple it up before the ink dried, smearing it all over the page. Thankfully, it was still legible, and after I read the note I was more then thankful.

_Gaara,_

_I know that you're really hurt, because of the thing between Sasuke and I, and I just want to say I'm really, really sorry. I'm still trying to figure out my feelings and I'm really lost right now, and I know I don't deserve it but I need someone's guidance._

_You see, I'm not sure if I like Sasuke, or not, and Sasuke doesn't seem to care. It was just… at the moment, it was like, it just went so fast and it probably would've gone further if I didn't see you and break out of my trance. So I guess I have to thank you too, for preventing me from doing something I was probably going to regret many times over._

_Anyways, I know the group's been shaken up a little bit recently but I hope we can all meet at that café near Neji's house again, except this time on Wednesday? We have a lot of things to catch up on._

_From, Naruto_

_P.S. The Battle of the Bands is coming up in the Konoha Convention Center and we have to submit our entries by March 26th! Hope you can think about a song you'd like us to sing, then!_

I sigh, feeling a thread of anxiety, warmth, happiness and anger seep into my heart. I am happy that Naruto and Sasuke weren't officially an item yet, in either social or mental means, but was angry because Naruto may have been just trying to make me feel better by softening the blow. I felt warm because the way he apologized and thanked me was sincere and… something else. I wasn't sure. But the warmth sparked a little ray of hope in me that I was just a little afraid to let blossom, and that was where my anxiety kicked in.

Does Naruto like me? As in, _like_ me? Or is he just being a good friend?

Half of me want to act like an overactive fan girl and squeal, pretending that he likes me, but the innermost me that is probably smarter then _overactive fan girl_ knows that he probably just thinks me as a friend. A good friend.

I sigh, crumpling _that_ piece of paper into my pocket as well, and cup my chin in my hands.

Why was my life so much like a soap opera?

--

Author's Notes: Forgot the notes last time heh... ; Yay! Reviewers/Hugs all and hands out marshmallows/ I love some of your critiques. I feel like they give me set standards I should focus on /holds up fist/ I will PREVAIL! And yeah, I know my writing is starting to detoriate (along with my plot line)... but that's how I write after writing for two hours Lol thank you!


	6. Name: Score One

_Page 43_

_Section 1:_

_2b) _To my dear children:

Temari; the house and all possessions within it excluding formal papers and documents and anything I gave to others. Being that she does not sell the house and promise to keep it within the family, it is hers to do whatever she wants.

Kankuro; the plots of land I bought at the side of Konoha: 40 acres of forest. All of my clothing, including my formal business suits and jewelry, will be given to him to use as he wishes. As long as he promises to keep at least 10 acres of forest untouched, all the above shall occur.

And to Gaara, my youngest...

My company and stocks in the technological field.

This is an order: you will go to psychiatrist counseling with the psychiatrist I will subscribe to you below. Once you have finished two months of sessions with the man, you, my boy, will be--

The CEO of Suna Tech and rightful wielder of all Suna Tech Stocks.

As repayment for losses left unsaid, this is my gift to you. Treat it well...

_(attached) Umino, Iruka. Main Street Psychiatrist Counseling: 123 North Main Street, Konoha_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

I stop a pedestrian for directions.

"Um…" I show him the half-torn crumpled map fluttering in my hand, "Can you point me to… Main Street Psychiatrist Counseling?" The man stares at me for a bit, takes out his cane, and whacks me on the head.

"Chickens!" He screams at the top of his lungs, "Go 'SQUAWK!" And he runs as fast as an old man with arthritis can run in the opposite direction, people staring at him as he hobbles uphill. I stare after him. _That_ guy _really_ needs to see a psychiatrist, not me.

I shake my head, still as lost as I was before. The map Temari had given me was probably a century old or something, because all the stores it said was there wasn't and places where there shouldn't have been anything at all, there was. I actually walked into a barber's shop asking for fries and a hamburger because the damn thing said that this place was supposed to be a McDonalds, not a 'Trim for a Swim' shop where swimmers chased me out with scissors in butt-hugging Speedos.

After wandering uphill aimlessly through a bustle of busy discount-shoppers and discontented boyfriends being dragged by their beloveds, I finally found a tight-fitted white building labeled in neat, golden letters: '_Main Street Psychiatrist Counseling_' above the crooked doorframe.

I breathe in, steady myself, and open the door. I am immediately bombarded by the intoxicating smell of alcohol (like Sasuke's hands) and I gag into a conveniently placed trashcan next to the door. A little girl no older then five stares at me in awe, like I was a monster from the deep. In a few ways, I looked—and acted—very much like one.

My heart-red flaming beacon-of-a-hairdo is uncombed and mussed since it was extremely short anyhow and I felt no reason to comb it back except for 'special occasions' (which Temari deemed special—Kankuro and I just found them stupidly boring). I had spent twenty minutes in the bathroom this morning trying to figure out if the black stud or the silver hoop would look best in my left ear (Temari was banging at the door and all I could think of was sweet, sweet revenge), finally trashing the idea altogether and snapping on a love-skull clip-on that Neji had given to me as a consolation present last time we had an argument (last year). My black hoodie was rolled up to my elbows because the day had turned from chillingly freezing to unbearably hot in a matter of minutes, and I wearing a pair of (yes, I admit) slacks (the horror! The HORROR! It's _all_ Temari's fault!).

Looking the way I did, I'm surprised a little kid haven't screamed and fainted in the hour I've been out.

Steadying myself against a wall, I blearily sit myself down onto an old moth-eaten chair and cough into my rolled-up sleeve. How I _hate_ this smell! A bulging square-jawed woman sat cross-legged (fat rolling in waves down the side of her chair… ugh…) in a white uniform that told everyone in the room that she was a secretary and she was a secretary with _pens_. Which she can use to conveniently stab people with. She catches me staring at her and she motions me to go to the front desk.

I wobble towards the violet-smelling desk (she had an air freshener that bellowed out 'fresh' scents of flowers, which, mixed with alcohol, smelled faintly of vomit) and lean on the counter. She points towards a neatly clipped clipboard at the side of the desk. "Do you have an appointment, young man?" She said in a squeaky voice, and it took me a few seconds to realize that she wasn't making fun of me, that was her _real_ voice. I stare at her a bit, then pick up the clipboard. A list of patient's names are neatly typed and printed in columns on a sheet of paper, and I scan through the several thousand number-codes before I find mine.

I show the secretary my name, which was next in line anyways, and she nods. Picking up the phone, she rapid-fire talks to some probably amazingly talented person with enhanced hearing on the other side. Putting the receiver down, she says, "Doctor Umino will see you in a minute, Mr. Sabaku," I twitch at the title. People used to call my _Dad_ Mr. Sabaku, not me, "So you can sit down in a chair while he gets prepared."

As I soon as I start getting comfortable in the probably century-old thing, a voice calls out, lightly, from the Psychiatrist's door, "Sabaku no Gaara?" Sighing, I force myself up and crawl towards the door, and instantly fall into a pitch black room.

"Eh?"

"Oh, sorry… here, I'll help you." The voice is chillingly familiar. I have heard this voice before. Where have I heard this voice before? The light flickers on, and I spot the psychiatrist getting back down into his puffy armchair. I stare at him.

_Holy—it's that Green-Tote Bag Guy!_

Except now he's dressed in a black turtleneck very much like Neji's (they must shop in the same place), casual jeans and sandals, and had a white tote bag today, not green. Though I am obviously overwhelmed with surprise at seeing him, his eyes are solemn with expectance of my arrival.

"Hello, Gaara." He says, quietly, hands folded in his lap. I sit down slowly in a white-worn 'leather' couch that was decades overdue for a trip to the dump. He tilts his head in this very Sasuke-like manner, scar wrinkling as his face contorted into one of slight distaste. He's not staring at me however; he's staring at someone who was in the doorway, casting a shadow onto my body.

He motions with his hand for the person to go away, but said person seems very persistent and has his feet planted into the ground.

"No," A clear, yet deep, voice clipped above me, "_You _come here."

I flicker my eyes upward, but all I can catch is a shock of gray-silver hair and someone wearing a very large green coat right up towards me. Umino-san, my psychiatrist, looks exasperated, then made a sort of hand-signal that must of have been an inside thing, because the man standing right behind me gave a sort of agreeing grunt followed with a curt nod, then walked out of the room. I don't turn around, thus, I never caught the guy's face, but that didn't matter because Umino-san proved to be a flexible person, bouncing back to me in an instant without falter.

"So…" He crossed his legs, and I briefly wonder how he could do that without squashing certain man-parts in the process (when I was eight, Kankuro dared me to cross my legs and I did it too fast, ending up with one hand on his neck and the other holding my sore you-know-what's with Temari screaming at us—What the hell were we doing!), "Why don't we start out this session casually? What are you doing here, today?"

I notice he didn't have a notebook.

"Don't psychiatrists have notebooks?" I point towards his empty hands, "So that they can keep track of everything their client says for future reference?"

He smoothly crosses his arms and smiled, "Nope, don't have one. I find it disturbs the clients and makes them nervous."

_No duh,_ I think, inwardly rolling my eyes, _what do you expect? It'll sort of feel like a newspaper journalist interviewing you and _everyone_ knows how _they_ like to manipulate words. Writing stuff down is like collecting evidence, right? Who would _want_ people to collect evidence_?

I can see Umino-san's soft brown eyes firmly watching me as expressions flit through my face accompanying my thought-process, and he cocks his head the side again, this time contemplating. I don't squirm and I don't blink. I've had enough experiences in a psychiatrist or psychologist's office before.

He blinks at me slowly, then gets up, out of his seat. I notice his height, and realize he must be taller then me by at least five inches. Sitting down in that oversized armchair really seemed to swallow him up, and I wonder if he sits in a big armchair on purpose, to make him appear more innocent. He strides towards a bookshelf near my end of the room, fiddling with some things in the cabinet before he managed to pry a rather dusty wooden board game out from under the mess.

Ok, it wasn't that much of a mess. It _was_ a mess, but if it was a mess, then it was a very _organized_ mess. I know, it doesn't make sense, but it makes sense to me _now_.

Beaming, he slams the thing onto the coffee table with a newborn gusto, jolting me from my slumped back position with a start. Turning towards another small table, I can see him filling up a cup with some pitch black coffee being poured from a small white coffee maker that didn't even compare to the one's at Neji's. Of course, this was a cramped office and not Neji's mansion, so I didn't have grounds to make comparisons anyways…

He holds a cup towards me, "Want some?"

"No."

"What do you want, then?"

"Tea." My voice is flat.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Milk, no sugar."

He looks at me fondly, and I can feel my skin crawl with familiarity. I _know_ I've seen this guy before, even before that little 'here's a note thing' last week. He hums as he fills the cup with some hot water that had miraculously appeared out of nowhere (ok, so it was there before but it _seemed_ to appear out of nowhere) and prepares my tea.

As I wait, feeling awkward that this guy I barely knew but knew so well prepared _tea_ for me, I lean forward to examine the board game.

It was this old thing, a strategy game, imitating a war zone with one person taking each side of the war. Being used to psychiatrists, I had expected some 'getting-to-know-you' little kid game, not some strategy thing.

I feel heat seep into my body as Umino-san places the cup of tea into my hand, which were half-curved (I've mentioned my half-curved hands before, but this was the first time someone took advantage of it). I look up, imitating annoyance even if I felt surprised, as the older man sits himself back into his armchair. He takes a sip of his coffee, and then smiles at me.

"This was a game I used to play with my parents a lot, and I loved it. It always brings good memories to me."

I'm silent, half of cooing at how sweet that is (this must bet the side infected with Naruto-ness), half of me snarling 'Why are you telling me this? I don't care'. Umino-san's examining my face again, and I quickly try to put a mask of indifference onto my features.

He purses his lips and sighs, sipping his coffee. "I thought that if I got you into a game you'd feel better. Let's start, shall we? Red or blue?"

After firmly taking charge of the little red markers, I examine and assemble my little army into a pleasing way across my territory. High ranked soldiers guarded the back and front of my flag, while middle ranked ones stood tall at the flanks. Weak footmen were prepared in the first row, scouts were littered among the ranks, and if the enemy _still_ got through them all I had some rather nasty bombs planted in clusters of eager soldiers. Feeling quite impressed at my own capacity of planning and organizing an army, I sat back, satisfied.

Umino-san had finished organizing his army far before I had, and he was downing his coffee at a faster pace then before, not seeming to care if he scalded his throat or not. Catching me staring at him, he smiles at me crookedly, finishing his cup, and then placing it gently down next to the board. "Ok," He says, "You start."

After some contemplation, I move a small footman on my left wing forward. I see Umino-san move, in response, a member of his right wing to attack my soldier. I dig out a middle ranked lieutenant and move it behind the soldier as a trap for the enemy.

"Hey, Gaara," Umino-san says, casually moving a piece in the center front up to face my army, "What exactly are you doing here anyways?"

I shrug, moving a level four squadron leader to attack the new opponent, "I don't know. Why don't you tell me? And why do you care?"

He doesn't answer, just takes a soldier, reveals itself as a level six, and swallows my level four squadron leader. He reaches over to his left to take a biscuit. Stuffing it into his mouth, and mumbles, "I don't know exactly what's wrong with my clients all the time, and I have to find out from whatever they say during sessions. I care because then we can start somewhere. One point for me."

I can feel my eyes narrow in annoyance. I hated competition, and Umino-san was presenting a good amount of competition towards me right now. "I'm here because my father wants me to be here." I notice he's getting crumbs all over the board, and he notices me noticing him. Daintily picking up his small mess with a napkin, he watches me ponder my next move.

"Why does your father want you to come here?"

"How the hell should I know?"

My response is too quick, and I see his eyes sort of narrow for a split second in suspicion. There was no way he could spot my true reason for coming here, but I had just made him very, very curious about my current situation. I grit my teeth and move a scout forward four spaces to check out who the formidable blue marker really was.

Umino-san smirks, a little, and turns his blue marker over. "Got ya."

I almost groan in frustration, as a level nine warrior takes captive my poor little level two scout. "Damn…"

He laughs good-heartedly, placing the little red marker next to a bunch of other little red markers he had taken in the course of the game. "Oh, come now. It's just a—"

"If you say 'it's just a game' I will literally go out there and _strangle_ you."

This just makes him laugh harder, and he moves a piece from the rear to the front. "Are you always this fun, Gaara?"

I swear I want to pick up the dictionary right next to me and flatten him right then and there. But, of course, he was a psychiatrist and I would get in horrible trouble for it, not that I didn't get in trouble before because of squashing poor little doctors. I mumble some curses under my breath as I ruffle my hair and move my piece across the board.

"No, I'm not fun." I say.

He smiles, and we continue to exchange moves for a while in silence. He was evidently and slowly taking control over the left side of the field, while I desperately tried to counterattack his moves, failed, then decided the best option was to try to cease control over the rest of the board.

As we struggled to take over the imaginary-board-land, I was so focused on the game I was scared out of my wits when Umino-san first broke the silence.

"What's your sexuality?"

I stare at him a little, mouth open Naruto-style, before realizing my rather rude position and shut my jaw with a firm snapping noise. "Sexuality as in what gender I prefer or Sexuality as in how many times I have sex in a month?"

He's not looking at me as he picks up a piece and captures my level six guardian. "Both."

"I'm a gay virgin." I say flatly. "Are you homophobic?"

"Nope," He says a cheerfully, waiting for me as I stare at the board hard, looking for my next move, "I'm bisexual. The person that I was talking to at the beginning of the session—that was my boyfriend." I figured. Having long hair, crossing his legs, smiling and acting all nice—it was all too good to be true if he was straight to the boot as well.

I move my piece forward again, trying to capture that damn flag probably located at the left rear of his army. Umino-san's grin just got wider. "And… now!"

He suddenly moves a piece I hadn't realized was there before, a piece that immediately and suddenly swept and took hold of my flag. I can feel my brow twitch in sudden irritation as he triumphantly plucks the little red piece from its position and says, in a clear voice, "I win!"

"Augh…" I stuff my head into my hands, "No fair… you probably had years and years of practice on the game anyways…" He frowns, putting down his piece and staring at me.

"Hey, don't treat me like I'm _that_ old. I'm only around… twenty-nine? Thirty? I can't remember…" He puts his fingers to his lips thoughtfully as I deadpan. A psychiatrist that can't even remember his age? He shrugs, as if it was unimportant. Gathering the little red and blue markers, he carefully sweeps them into the little box holding the board and instructions. I watch as he folds them all carefully away and tucks the board game neatly back into the cabinet.

"You can leave now, you know," He says, gesturing at the clock sitting to my left, "Your session's over… not that I _want_ you to leave, but I wouldn't want you sitting in that corner all by yourself creeping the other clients, right?" I consider, then decide that it made sense. I'm a little surprised that time flew by so fast, but then, I know I have a tendency to lose track of the real world in times of stress or fun. I sigh, wave good-bye to Umino-san (who smiles and waves back) and walk out the door.

The session wasn't all that bad, and Umino-san refrained from asking common questions psychiatrists asked me usually, which was very, very good. I stuff my hands in my hoodie pockets as the over intoxicating smell of alcohol and flowers overwhelm me again and I gag. Stuffing my mouth and nose with a hand, I run out the door, catching a glimpse of a man slumped next to Umino-san's door before finding my way outside.

There would've been nothing unusual about me spotting Umino-san's boyfriend waiting for him—I mean, they had sort of agreed to meet each other after my appointment anyways when he first came through the door. So it shouldn't have been unusual _or_ surprising.

At least, it wouldn't be if his boyfriend wasn't actually Naruto's one and only, good-fashioned, lazy-assed music teacher, Hatake Kakashi.

--

Neji's mansion is a fifteen minute drive on my motorbike from mine and looks like something sprung out of a fashion magazine or such, with its perfect elegant white gates, the fountain in the front courtyard and its large fifteen feet-tall doors. Hitting the brake with a firm foot, I pop my helmet off, tuck it under my arm, and squint in the harsh light at the security system propped up next to the main Hyuuga gate.

Being the stockholders of one of the finest jewelry-crafting industries in the country, world, maybe, the Hyuugas were well aware of the dangers behind being incredibly wealthy. Thus, they used some of that money to buy one of the best security systems in the world _and_ hire security officers. Thankfully the security officers were inside, not out, or they'd kick my butt to Great Britain for looking punk.

Hyuugas have a thing with looking punk.

I hesitantly press the speaker button on the little security box and I jump as sudden static blasts out of the radio-speaker-thing. I stare as the thing sputters a little, then a familiar high-pitches voice squeaks out, "Who is it?"

I clear my throat, embarrassed that I was frightened, "Er… Gaara…"

The squeaky voice says, "Gaara? Oh, I'll go get Neji-niisan. NEJI-NIISAN!" I hear footfalls as the owner of the voice goes looking for my AWOL friend, "NEJI-NIISAN! IT'S GAARA!"

I hear the faint voice of Neji go, "What?"

The squeaky high-voiced girl screams, "IT'S GAAAAAARA!"

"What?"

The poor girl almost goes hoarse trying to communicate my voice over what must have only been thirty feet at most, "_GAAAAAAAAAAARA!"_

"Oh."

I hear the faint padding of socks on wood as Neji comes from wherever he's from and picks up the phone. "Hello? Gaara?"

"Er, Neji…"

There is an awkward silence as I wait for him to speak and he waits for me to finish.

Finally, he coughs. "Do you want me to let you in?"

"That'd be helpful," I say a little snidely, and the gates suddenly swing open. Ok, 'swing open' is not a proper description. More like 'dramatically opened their wondrous white steel bars in a graceful movement with angels singing in the background'. No, seriously.

Stepping inside, I carefully avoid the lawn and the fountain altogether, looping to the side and sort of tip-toeing towards the front door. Opening it, I duck inside and meet up with Neji in the room to the right of the entrance. He looks pretty ok, taking in the fact that he's been missing in school for two days straight which he _never_ does (I've mentioned that he's the teachers pet before, right?).

His hair is pulled back in the traditional Japanese fashion, clipped down behind his ears with invisible bobby pins, and his forehead was bare. Crude lines joined together in a single 'X' in the middle of his forehead, speaking bitterly of pain and why Neji never liked showing the top of his face.

Unlike Sasuke, who wore a dorky navy headband because he just _insisted_ on being dorky.

Clad in the uniform Hyuuga robe, he motions me upstairs. I look back just enough to catch a look at the girl who had answered me, a quiet student with hair tied into two pigtails resting on her collarbone and a shy personality. She was familiar, and it occurred to me later that she was in my trigonometry class with Naruto and me. She didn't talk much, however, just stared at Naruto and twiddled her fingers.

Neji pulls open the paper-made screen door that led to his room, allows me in, then snaps it shut. It makes me nauseous, how Japanese the Hyuugas were while my family was a trashy punk-western wannabe group of drug addicts compared to them. So maybe their descriptions of us were accurate, but it didn't really make me feel better.

The older boy motions me to some traditional Japanese mats, where I hesitantly curled my feet under my self trying to resist the urge to just flop down on the thing and ruin the image of Neji's perfect bedroom with my black-and-red form.

I'm still wearing slacks, for the record.

"What did you come here for, Gaara?" Neji says, and I can almost imagine him pouring a cup of green tea while using that tone with me. He only uses _the tone_ when he was being dead serious. It had no room for joking, or sarcasm. Just plain, hard facts.

"I wanted to find out some information," I answer, flatly, "and you're probably the most knowledgeable out of all of us." I take my hand out of my hoodie pocket and show him a fist, clenched together.

Holding up one finger, I say, "One. Why haven't you been showing up to Drama lately?" He opens his mouth but I hold up a hand. He closes his mouth and looks firmly at me with disapproval.

I ignore his glance and hold up two fingers, "Two. What do you know about Naruto and Sasuke's relationship?" He doesn't do anything, just stares.

I hold up three fingers. "Three. Can we exchange pasts?"

He looks at me carefully, eyes narrowed, at the last comment. Clearing his throat, he mimics me by holding up a fist, then lifting a finger after each answer.

"I got paired up with my ex-boyfriend for the part in the next play. I don't know what's going on with Naruto and Sasuke except that they're in lust with each other. I'm not sure, but I think Naruto's in love but Sasuke's just in it for the pleasure. You go first."

I stare at him. He stares at me. I clear my throat, and look around for a place to place my helmet. "Okay… but you already know most of what my past is like…"

--

"Gaara, come here." Baki's voice was loud and harsh to my ears, like every other damn thing that crossed my path on a stressed out day. Shukaku was perched on my shoulder, razor-sharp fangs sticking toothily above his lower lip. Beast-like eyes narrowing, he hissed poisonous words into my ear as my guardian looked down on me.

_Stab him, kill him, drink that delicious blood; yes, that delicious blood, so red and vivid like cherry syrup… yes… open his chest out and rip out his heart, eat that heart, eat that heart and regain the one you lost, yes, the one you lost, lick that delicious blood away, hear his wonderful screams as he writhes beneath you… such beautiful screams, like music, like demons cackling, screams stained with crimson spots are the best, the best, yes, the best, kill him Gaara, kill him—_

Slowly I stand from where I had been leaning on before, facing the man with stone-cold emotionless eyes surrounding by a thick layer of black. My hair was a vivid red, the same color as the tattoo sketched across the left of my forehead, and there was blood on my hands.

The blood of that cute little next-door neighbor who liked to ride her bike through the neighborhood until one fateful morning. When she met me.

Shukaku is cackling again, this time dancing gleefully on my shoulder, and I look at him irritably.

_She was precious, yes precious, so young; little fingers so delicate as you bit them off one by one… her shrieks were like the bird calls you love when you strangle them, her blood tasted of youth and made you feel so good, feel so good, like eating some candy… that bicycle was the best, the best, you took it with your hands and you broke it, yes, broke it, used the steel to hit the girl on the head, skull cracking like a scream cut short too soon, so delicious, so wonderful, yes… strangling her, fingers digging into creamy skin, like cake, like cake with cherry-red filling as blood cascaded down, wonderful blood, wonderful scream, that smell I so love…_

"Baki-sensei?" I said, tonelessly. His face is hardened, and he gripped me roughly by the shoulder. At the corner of my I could see Temari and Kankuro hiding behind the door. I sneered at them, and Shukaku sneered with me.

_Idiot constraints, binding me, depraving me of sweet, sweet, blood, stupid little girl, wishful thinking, eating their hair, ripping it out of their heads as they struggle and scream… oh just think, that blood! Wonderful blood, each strand dipped in the red, so wonderful, like straws, suck the blood up with the hair like straws; snap their necks take that infernal boy's necklaces and strangle him, yes, strangle him until he chokes and dies, then tighten it, head pops up, bone cracks, headless body, headless body, a huge hole where you can suck a lot of blood, suck a lot of blood with the blood-tipped hairs, use a switch knife, mince them, roast them, delicious flesh burning on the stake as their screams pierce the night, yes!_

"Your father," He said, flatly, "He wants to see you."

I nodded without emotion, coldly drilling holes into his stitched vest with the standard glare-of-insanity. "I know he wants to see us. That idiot bloodless freak always wants to see us, yes, Shukaku? Always wants to see us. So he can see us, bring him here, so I can suck his blood." I held up my hands and made a circular motion with my index finger, then squeezed them together and put my tongue in-between my teeth, "Like a _tick_." I cracked a maniacal smile that spoke more of eager bloodlust then joy.

Baki stared at me like he so often did, and his hand clenches tighter around my shoulder.

"Gaara," He said, slowly like he was talking to a child of five, and not twelve, "Would you like to see your mother?"

I flinched a little, smile evaporating like piss in the sunlight, and Shukaku hissed beside me. He tried to intervene with another rant of delicious metaphors, but I stopped him and looked Baki in the eye.

"Yes, Baki," I said in a low, low monotone, smiling insanely, "I would like that very, very much."

--

At the café downtown I felt tired and very dead.

I had thought Naruto had invited us over to the place because he wanted to solve out the whole me seeing Naruto and Sasuke making out conflict along with Neji's disappearance (which I knew). However, the blonde didn't do anything but ramble on about what happened during the week and how this was _so_ funny and blah, totally ignoring what had happened between the four of us.

I know it was just Naruto's way of making us feel better, but it still annoyed the hell out of me.

Naruto, in consolation for everyone at the table, had bought the special of the week (which has been the special of the week every week since we first came, which was at the beginning of high school) which was humongous. There were mounds of creamy ice cream, ranging from vanilla to 'chunky munky' (copyrighted to Ben and Jerry's), with whip cream piled float-style at the top of the mountain. Caramel and chocolate drizzled all over the top of the sundae and the whole thing was floating on a sea of root beer. The dish itself completed the root beer float as it was, literally, in the shape of a U.S. Navy ship.

The waitress, who went to our school but I just forgot her name (do you really expect me to know?), sighs in relief as she places the thing at our table. Wiping her forehead with the back of her gloved hand, she grins at us. "This is usually ordered for the couples, since its big enough for two and easily more. First time I saw a bunch of boys getting at it though." She smirks and looks at us suspiciously in succession, "My, a bunch of good-looking ones, here, eh? Are you all up to something, or…?" She left the question hanging, took up her board, and stuck her tongue out at us. "Never mind. Happy dining! And Neji, you still have to give me back my Jolin CD you borrowed from me a month ago."

Before the boy could reply, she waltzes off, humming. Neji bites his lip in frustration, and slumps down, a hand below his chin. "Stupid Tenten. She drives me up the wall." Naruto looks up from eating the ice cream mound (he had started the minute she had put it down).

"What? But aren't you two dating?"

Neji's eyes narrow in a dangerously aggressive way that spoke of using his martial art skills and poking the younger boy in very compromising positions. He doesn't answer, just takes out a pack of gum, and shows it to me.

"Gum?"

Sasuke grunts a little at Neji's obvious ignorance of Naruto, just sits back and crosses his arms in a sort of feminine-punk manner. Naruto's eating ice cream and stealing glances at the ebony-haired boy at the same time, ending up with him shoving a spoonful of the stuff into his cheek instead of his mouth.

He blinks at the sudden wetness on his cheek, then reaches up and touches the ice cream dribbling slowly earthwards. "Eh…?" I see my chance and lean forward.

"Here," I gently scoop the ice cream carefully from his cheek, making sure it had all come off, then licked it off my thumb, "That's better."

Naruto, who was smart and yet so dense and oblivious sometimes, smiles. "Hey, thanks Gaara!" Sasuke, who had flinched when I leaned forward, is looking at me with a glare on his face.

I smile at him crookedly.

Score one for the red-headed murderer.

--

Author's notes: I am realizing how boring my story is. The plot is slow and subtle, and to people who like action and adventure, nonexistent. Heh, whatever... MORE REVIEWERS! Yay/Goes to store and buys marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers/ S'mores! ...wait... Wah! No campfire/goes off to cry in a little corner/ Oh well... help yourself to anything... /takes a marshmallow and stuffs face/ Mm...


	7. Name: Proceed

_Ten Reasons Why I Hate Rock Lee_

1) He's hyper

2) He's ecstatic

3) He doesn't make sense half the time

4) The way he talks ticks me off

5) He's dumb

6) He's a coward

7) If he doesn't like something he ignores it

8) He's totally clueless when it comes to love

9) He stole my heart and broke it

10) He has yet to give it back

_Signed, ------_

_(The name has been meticulously ripped out, as if someone had signed it then decided to leave it anonymous after all)_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

Lee is eating an ice cream cone with all the gracefulness and beauty of a fly trying to fly upwards cross-eyed. There is vanilla ice cream smeared on his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the crease next to his lips and was now dribbling messily down his chin and onto the picnic table. Neji, who is sitting cringing in front of him, looks like he was just barely resisting the urge to grab the nearest cloth—Shikamaru's Vest—to wipe off all that syrup off the other's senior's face.

"Nehji," The green-clad boy says happily in-between slurps with his mouth full, "Jhis is she bestsh ishe cream cone I've sheashten!" Because of Lee's disheartening habit of eating with mouth open, we all had a glorious view of _Lee, his teeth, and the workings of his ice-cream covered throat_ for fifteen minutes.

It was a class fieldtrip, where the teacher had decided the best way to learn about old day times was to go back to actual monuments or shrines where important battles took place. For the first half of the fieldtrip we toured the museum in assigned groups—Neji, Lee, Shikamaru and a girl who had burningly bright blue hair and a dorky smile plastered on her face were paired up with Maito-sensei and I (some teachers who had the day off volunteered to be guardians… Lee was overjoyed that Maito-sensei was his team leader).

After staring for thirty minutes straight at dusty century-old samurai swords and masks, we finally headed outside to go look at some famous shrine down somewhere in the country. To sum it all up, it was like sitting at a graveyard for another hour before the teacher declared that it was time for lunch.

We had all brought our own lunches: Neji with his chicken alfredo and sports drink, Shikamaru and his wrapped up Chinese-food lunchbox, Lee with a bottle of mineral water and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the girl with something very soupy and I—I, with what should be known as the most horrendous invention on earth.

Lunchables.

"Take it!" Temari had screamed at me this morning as I rummaged frantically through the supplies in the fridge, looking for _anything _that would give me an excuse not to take the stupid little cardboard carton, "I bought it yesterday, its fine! What, feel embarrassed?" I didn't answer, and Temari exploded. "Gaara get your ass over here and take the stupid thing or you're going to be late!"

Thus, I had grabbed the lunchables in the end and had ended up trying to choke down some raw pizza-crust-cookie-thing with industrialized tomato sauce smeared on the top. The cheese had tasted like plastic and the pepperoni was even worse.

Neji took pity on me and gave me some chicken, which I thankfully used to wash down the crusty-lunchable-creation.

Who knew alfredo sauce plus pizza tasted good?

After lunch, the teacher then towed us to an ice cream shop in a historical district where blah war took place in blah and that is why blah was so blah important. Whatever. Information didn't even go through an ear and out another; it just bounced off my head and flew past me full speed. All that really mattered was the ice cream shop, and was what landed us (or me) in the situation we were in right now.

Neji moans, burying his face into his sleeve, distraught. Lee pauses from his maniacal slurping to look at the other boy. "What?"

"You're disgusting." Shikamaru says, flatly. Lee blinks slower. Maito-sensei, who, I _swear_, had just been dancing the Macarena to the ice cream song just a minute ago, zooms out of nowhere and cradles the other boy in his arms.

"Oh, Lee," He says, dramatically posing, "Do not feel so ashamed at your actions—it is thus only a minor part of every youth's life, and a mishap shall be conquered! Conquer, oh young spirit, conquer, and reveal the true meaning of youth!" He points a finger into the air, and, with a blinding smile, shouts, "_Yosh!_"

Lee, who had no idea _what_ the older man was saying, repeated, "Yorsh!" In a slurred tone, of course, as he still had ice cream in his mouth.

I think Neji snapped right here.

He looks around for a napkin holder, finds one, snatches it, and places the thing right in front of the eccentric. Motioning with his hands, he says, "Say 'Ah'."

Lee, who is just a little more naïve then Naruto, looks puzzled and says, "Ah?" At this moment Neji firmly shoves a napkin into his mouth. The turtle-like boy's eyes bulged out a little in surprise, but had no more time to bulge further as Neji deftly takes a few more napkins out of the napkin holder and gets to work on cleaning Lee's face.

"…hate messes…" Neji's muttering under his breath as he wipes away stickiness from Lee's cheek, "…drives me up the wall… stupid Lee… never live this down…" After the initial shock of being gagged, Lee starts to giggle as Neji moves down as he cleans up the dribble-stains on his shirt.

"Neji—" He giggles oddly, trying to twist away, "—Tickles!"

Neji, who is rolling his eyes, glares murderously at all who is staring at him. Taking a towellete from his pocket, he finishes wiping the other boy's face. Lee's eyes pop open as the hot cloth meets his lips, and he howls, lurching backwards and ending up doing a sort of back flip head-first collision into the ground.

"Lee…" Neji says, dangerously angry, while the other boy picks himself up, "How much of a loser can you get?"

"Idiots," Shikamaru says under his breath as he finishes his mango sherbet, "Total idiots."

I don't say anything, but find it totally amazing how Neji handled the situation. Especially the fact that this was _Lee_ we were talking about, here. The blue-haired girl is staring at me and I'm finding it chillingly creepy. I'm hoping to try to get out of here as fast I can, if only the teacher wasn't too busy laughing with his favorite students by that table near the window (Neji had briefly talked to him for five minutes before coming to join us). Shikamaru regards me with cool regard.

"You didn't call me." He says quietly. I absently shrug a little, sheepish because I had really, truly forgotten. My face remained pretty expressionless, however, despite what I felt.

"I've had a hectic week," I say smoothly, sipping my coffee ice cream milkshake with a newborn gusto, "And the more I think about it, the more I think… Dog boy—"

"Kiba"

"—Kiba should ask around if anyone got a letter, too."

Shikamaru raises an eyebrow in thought. "You think someone played the fake love letter trick on him and someone else?" I shrug.

"Possibly."

"You're impossible." I turn around to see Neji giving Lee his almighty-Hyuuga-glare-of-doom, "If you really want to get into the University you have to do better then just fool around and be spontaneous. Sure, you work hard…" The boy's eyes narrows, "But hard work is all for nothing if there's not a real goal to work for."

Lee's meeting the other's glare full-on, lip curled down in that turtle-like pout he was so known for. "I am aware already, Neji. I already have a goal in mind and I wish you would butt out of other people's business. It has nothing to do with you if I want to go to University or not." He pulled his chair out with an ear-piercing shriek and stomps, huffishly, out of the store.

Neji growls, "Hot-blooded loser," before swiveling his seat around and mixing his cake-batter sundae sulkily around in his bowl.

Everyone in the ice cream store, even some local dine-in customers, is staring at the pissed off Hyuuga. Only after he directs his anger at them with a glare they look away, talking to themselves in hushed voices.

I look around at everyone bouncing back to their normal lives as if what happened was an every day occurrence.

"Well," I sigh, cupping my face in my hands, "That could've been worse."

--

I walk into the kitchen, take the nearest spatula in hand and wham Kankuro hard on the head.

"OW!"

"Let me on the laptop."

"No!"

"Kankuro!"

I'm booting him in the head right now with a spatula trying to pry his butt of the seat and he's hanging onto the kitchen table with his life, one hand on the wood and another cradling his precious portable computer. The kitchen table creaks and groans, caught in-between the squabble-between-the-two-brothers-from-hell.

"Give!"

"No!"

"Why not?"

Kankuro lifts his head up, high and mighty, and, tight-lipped, declares, "I need it to read porn off the internet."

I stare at him with an incredulous look on my face, before finally landing a sound whack on his hand and taking the laptop.

"No!" I can hear Kankuro wail as I bring the thing to my room, "Porn-TV!"

"Dumbass." I mumble under my breath as I log off of my brother's account (his wallpaper was one of a girl without her shirt on looking flirtingly up at the camera) and onto mine. Made sense for Kankuro to be porn-obsessed, as well as acne-infested and having a serious BO problem.

I lean over and turn on my stereo system (I'm sitting on my bed), and sit, waiting for the laptop to load, contently listening to one of my many favorite bands (Slipknot!).

My wallpaper, which was tastefully of a picture taken when Naruto, Neji, Sasuke and I went off to a friends-only trip to the hot springs where Naruto was on top of me flinging the 'victory' sign to the camera while Neji's toes can barely be seen the background, hums gently onto the screen. I log in to my email account (crimsonraccoon AT yahoo . com (1)) and, deducing that all the things in my inbox were either prank-emails from fellow classmates who thought it would be fun to scare the 'emo kid' or from sex-porn websites that were inviting to me group orgies, I click on the little button that said 'compose' and got ready to send an email.

_**From**:_ _crimsonraccoon AT yahoo. com_

_**To**: emptybird77 AT yahoo. com_

**_Message_**: hey neji wats up? heh, kidding, nothing much. just mailing you about the whole BOB thing… naruto's going crazy, he's emailing me all this crap and stuff about how we need to get ready and blah. he said he wants me to start writing up a composition for the competition (rhymes… sort of,ha) so yeah I'm attaching the thing right now click 'attactment' and you shoud find it…the theme this year is supposed to be 'love hardships' and some other cliché thing like that so think along those lines when you're writing the lyrics… naruto wants to get a new t-shirt design too but I told him it'd be too much effort for you and he said 'nothing's too much effort for neji-boy!' and I was like blah… (there's no spell check on this stupid thing so my spells and stuff is all messed up… don't even both to try and correct me with your OCD or I'll smack you)

I send the message and wait a while for the other boy to respond. Turning my music on louder, I feel satisfied when Kankuro starts shouting at me from the kitchen to 'shut the damn thing off I can't think straight!' as I stare out the window.

Finally, a reply comes.

_**From**:_ _emptybird77 AT yahoo. com_

_**To**: crimsonraccoon AT yahoo. com_

**_Message_**: The Battle of the Bands is at the KCC on the 26th, right? Don't worry about the lyrics, I've already come up with a sketch of what it'd be like (I read the pamphlet last week; I _do_ keep up with news, you know). You're right, it _is_ a little too much for me to come up with _four new t-shirts_ for everyone in the group, but I can hand you a sketch and you can give it to Shika, ok? He's a pretty decent artist, once he gets his lazy bum up to do some work. Want to talk on the phone? It's a lot faster then typing.

Just as I finish reading that last sentence the phone rings. I can hear Temari cursing as she trips on the broom on her way to answering the phone (useful mirror working again). Picking it up, she says the standard 'hello, who is it' thing, pauses, then shouts, "Gaara!"

Sticking her head into my room, she sort of jiggles the phone, signaling my chance to grab it. Taking a hold of the cheap plastic receiver and screwing my face up into one of distaste at the putrid smell being wafted into my room from the kitchen, I say, "Hey Neji."

"Hello Gaara. How was Naruto today?"

Straight to the how-is-your-relationship-with-Naruto-and-damn-it-if-I'm-letting-you-keep-this-all-to-yourself questions.

"He was ok. He bounced back pretty well from the whole discovering-make-out thing, but I think he's being a little conscious around me, now. He was sort of like 'Hey Gaara are you alright,' and 'Gaara, let's play a game' or 'you want to have some of my noodles'? You didn't go to school today either! I thought you got over the I'm-so-depressed-because-Lee's-the-prince-so-I'm-going-to-go-sulk thing."

"I _am_. I was absent today because Hinata-sama _just decided_ to _finally_ get her period today."

"Wait, which one's Hinata again?"

"The older cousin. Anyways, she had just been thinking that she was maybe half boy and the she'd never have kids and all that stuff when suddenly I find her, at my door, two in the morning tears streaming down her face wailing that she was dying. After getting her some sanitary napkins and assuring her she wasn't dying, I logged on my PC and showed her some websites about the menstrual cycle and crap…"

"Neji, you fiend! You got your cousin onto porn!"

I can hear him lightly chuckle on the other end, "Oh, ho, funny. She's better now, but she was too afraid to go to school because she just _knew_ she'd bleed through her pants the first time and my uncle ordered me to stay with her because he'd be out and there really would be no one home except for the servants, who don't count."

"Hm…" I get up from my room and poke my head into the hall. Kankuro had escaped into the study room once Temari revealed the contents of whatever she had been 'cooking' in the oven, and Temari was now attempting to make something of her mess. Quietly sneaking into the kitchen, I whisper, "Shikamaru wants me to find out who sent the letter to Kiba and he's been bugging the heck out of me. Any hints on this?" Opening the freezer door, I take out my precious cookie-dough ice cream, shut the door, and scurry back to my room.

Taking out my handy-dandy personalized spoon (seriously… it's a tarnished red and says 'Gaara' at the end, I swear), I dig into the ice cream (I don't really need a bowl since neither Temari nor Kankuro have the guts to eat _my_ ice cream) despite warnings that I would get fat. I mean, I _am_ concerned in getting fat, but, let's face it; it wasn't as bad as my love life or my social life in the least.

"Well… will you promise not to hold it against me if I tell you who it was?"

"As long as you don't hold my past against me, I'm fine."

"I'm the one who wrote the letter."

I spit my ice cream out and end up in a coughing fit when some ice cream made it half-way into my trachea. Neji waits in a frustratingly patient manner to regain my composure.

"I-I... I didn't know you liked _Kiba_."

I can just see Neji snap, "I _don't_ like him."

"Then why'd you send that letter? Was it a prank?"

"No," Neji drawls out, deliberately, "I was playing the old fake-love-letter trick."

I cough. "Shikamaru and I thought so."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm. So, who were you trying to pair up?"

"You know."

"I know?"

Neji is silent on the other end of the phone for a while, before saying, in a more firm voice, "You _know_."

I didn't push it. Suddenly, a bright neon light pops up on my screen blaring out words of praises that the oh-so-mighty-Ramen-lover-XOXOXO-1 had arrived on IM. Tucking the receiver in the crook between my shoulder and neck, I log on to Yahoo! Instant Messenger and start my attempt to talk to Naruto.

"What are you doing?"

"Naruto just IMed me and I'm going to talk to him. Give me advice?" Neji always gave good advice. I mean real good advice that actually helps you, instead of some lame 'you'll get through it' thing that never does any good. If only he took his own advice, he wouldn't have half the problems he had now.

Raccoon: Hey Naruto

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: GAARA! I'M HYPER! HYPER! XD XD XD HPER!

Raccoon: Hyper?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: SASUKE'S SLEEPING OVER TODAY HE GAVE ME CANDY NOT I CANT GO TO SLEEP HYPER HYPER HYPER HYP1PERS 1EHPS1!!!!111!!!!1111

Neji's voice breathes into my ear, "What's happening?"

"He's hyper," I breathe back, and I can hear Neji sigh, as if he'd expected Naruto's condition currently was somewhat on those lines. "What should I do?"

"Try to get him on a topic," The older boys whispers (why were we whispering?), "Talk about school, or ice cream, or ramen, or _something_. It'll lengthen the conversation and hopefully make him less hyper."

I type,

Raccoon: Why's Sasuke at your house?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: HOME ECONOMICS PROJECT SO BORING TAPED STUFF TO POSTER BUT HYPER HYPER!11!11! LOTS OF CANDY HEH SASUKE TRIED DOING STUFF SO FUN HYPER! XD XD XD XD WHAT GOING ON THERE DRUNK?

Naruto was starting to scare me now. I say to Neji, "Uh… Sasuke's over Naruto's house…"

"_What?_" Neji suddenly roars into my ear and the phone almost slips from its crook as I jolt in surprise, "Oh, damn!"

Saving the phone from its untimely doom, I look puzzled, "Damn what?"

"He's made another move!" Neji exclaims, using the voice he only possessed when his mind was trying to think in all directions all at once, "The playing field is evening up a bit… you just lost your advantage!"

I am even more perplexed, "…huh?"

Neji sighs, crossly, "Nah, whatever. You wouldn't understand."

At first I want to push him to brink, as the infuriating boy keeps _way_ too many things to himself, but then decide to leave it. I'm such a nice guy, aren't I?

"_Anyways_," I say, continuing on my conversation, "He said he had a lot of candy and Sasuke 'tried to do stuff' and he was hyper and he is… drunk?"

"Oh… that's bad… Sasuke's probably three to five steps ahead of you now…"

Again with that cryptic language that I am obviously too dumb to understand. Growling, I reply to Naruto.

Raccoon: What's Sasuke doing right now?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: SLEEPING ON COUCH AUNT TSUNADE WONT LET HIM IN ROOM HEH

Neji whispers, "Ask him if he's free on Saturday after band practice?"

"Why?" I whisper, confused.

"Just do it."

Raccoon: Are you free on Saturday?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: YEAH EXCEPT FOR PRACTICE.

I stare questionably at the phone for advice before the realization that Neji couldn't read what's on the laptop screen hits me, and I slump over at my own stupidity. After recovering, I ask, shakily, "So he says he's free. Now what?"

"You totally owe me one for this, Sabaku," I can just _imagine_ Neji smirking on the other line, "But I think I've just found two tickets to _that band_ Naruto _really_ likes…" I stare off in space (because I can't stare at Neji… who was fifteen miles away), gaping at nothing…

"…no…way…"

"Yes way! Ask him out!"

"_What_?"

"Ask him out! But don't be stupid and go 'will you go on a date…' so you better make it more casual, like 'hey I got tickets, do you want to go' ok?"

I stare off into space again.

"Neji… he's drunk… he won't remember…"

"I'll make him remember! Ask him out, now!"

I feel the side of my mouth twitch upwards in a sort of smirk or smile, "What, are you being aggressive all of a sudden?"

I can just see Neji tense up in defense, "I have manly pride too, Gaara. But this isn't about me; it's about you—ask him!"

"Ok, ok, I'm asking! Or typing! Or writing! Or—"

"Just _do it_!"

"Fine!"

Raccoon: I got tickets to your favorite band this Saturday! I only have two tickets and I thought you'd like to come with me?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: COOL AWESOME SURE! WHEN?

"When?" I ask Neji.

"Seven forty-five to ten."

Raccoon: 7:45 PM to 10:00 PM, cool?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: GREAT! MEET YOU AFTER PRACTICE!

/beep/

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1 has logged off.

I sigh in relief, realizing I had been unconsciously holding my breath. I can hear Neji's voice say, "Did he accept? Did he accept? Gaara? _Gaara_?"

I ignore him for a while, though, and think back on what just happened. It wasn't the best way I had imagined first asking Naruto out, but then, I was amazed I had actually _achieved_ asking him out.

"GAARA!"

"He said _yes_," I snap, and the other boy sounds smug.

"See? I told you, you should've asked him out! I'll give you the tickets tomorrow during Drama, ok?"

"Hm mm…" I log off my account and wait for the screen to turn blue again, "Hey Neji…"

"What?"

"Why didn't you go with Lee to the concert?"

There is silence at the other end of the phone, and Neji says, quietly, "I guess I was too chicken, then."

"Neji…"

He sighs. "Just let it go, Gaara. Have a nice time on Saturday and if I hear you two didn't end with a slobbery kiss I'll go up to your house and pummel you to pieces." Before I can answer, he hangs up, leaving me with the dead tone of the receiver hanging in the air.

--

Temari hasn't come home yet and Kankuro is trying to burp the ABC's.

"A," He belches, lips wavering at the force in each gassy outburst, hand on his stomach, "B, C, D…" I stare at him with my brow furrowed in a disgusted, unbelievable manner. How was I related to this guy again?

The kitchen was dimly lit, as the lamp above the kitchen table had just decided to shatter the moment before Temari's precious 'Yuki' was to come over to visit, sending my blonde sibling in a fit of hysteria. After hurriedly grabbing her purse and applying messily-done makeup (her mascara had smeared onto her eye shadow and her lips were over-glossed) she told us she'd be back in a second and flew off to buy another light bulb.

Did it ever occur to her that we already had a full supply of light bulbs at home already?

However, I hate to admit; I wasn't tall enough to reach the lamp without crouching on the table, which wasn't such a good idea as the thing was decades old and threatened to break at the weight of just a measly ten pounds. Kankuro, who _was_ tall enough, was too busy burping to use his brain.

"—M, N, O, P," Kankuro's struggling now, face turning purple as he's trying to summon more bubbles of gas from his over-gaseous stomach, "Q-Q, R, S, T-T…"

I groan in frustration, getting up from the table and fetching my bike-helmet from the musty-smelling closet by the door. Kankuro stops at his little gassy exploitation and says, suspiciously, "Where're you going?"

"Out," I answer shortly. Taking a step outside the flat, I firmly shut the door in his face, knowing full well he'd never go after me. Neither of my siblings ever did.

Looking from the outside of my flat, I observe the surroundings: a clean, white-washed building standing two stories tall. Dirty, dust-shrouded windows stood blearily out from the clean walls, some filled with murky green curtains, or, like ours, white, plastic shades. The doors were all painted a monotonous shade of gray with our room number at the top, and several trees stood hovering over the window ledges, branches full of dark, cropped green leaves. Our joke of a garden stood next to our doorstep, bunches of violets here and bunches of daisies here. Most of it was infested with dandelions, though, so it wasn't much of a sight.

The flat still looks exactly the same as it did five years ago, the day Baki drove up to our new home and ushered us out of the car.

Temari was a hell of a lot shorter then, standing up to Baki's shoulder at her highest, and had been dressed in a drab purple dress and white stockings. Why had she been wearing white stockings again? I don't really remember.

"Is this where we're going to live?"

Baki nodded, putting a hand in a sort of comforting way around her shoulder. Kankuro had his hands stuffed moodily in his pockets, eyes downcast, as he stood fidgeting as far away from me as possible. I myself had stood next to the car, barely registering the information being presented to me at that time. Shukaku was still in the car, however, because he said he didn't trust the house. He never trusted anything except me, though.

"I know it looks dirty now" Baki said in a low, quiet voice, "But the point is to try to make it look like home. The home you three never got to have." Tears welled up in Temari's eyes and she looked down so that our sensei couldn't see her sadness. Kankuro shuffled from one foot to the other, muttering things as he twiddled his fingers in anxiety.

The two brats actually _missed_ our family-abandoning father. They missed the man who had left us in the care of a lawyer not related to us at all in the slums of Suna, while he himself sat probably eating caviar all day in that posh mansion of his in the middle of the city. They missed the man who had refused to come visit even when our mother lay in bed, dying of some illness that had been my entire fault.

They missed the man who had just died without a worry and hadn't even left his will in some appropriate place where people could find it. They missed the man who had unintentionally caused Baki to move us to Konoha, in fear that my father's rivals would go out of their way to try to murder one of us in hopes of leaving Suna Tech without an heir.

How I hated that man. I stared coldly at the floor as Baki instructed Temari to remove the bags from the trunk and help him carry them to our new flat. Shukaku had slipped through the car doors and was quietly curled around my foot. He had no words to say today.

"Hey, brat," Kankuro called out defiantly, though his heart hadn't been into it, "Pick up your stuff and get it into the damn house already." I sneered in his general direction and casually slung my luggage over my shoulder as I followed my two siblings.

The flat had been entirely empty, with nothing but an old kitchen table, an outdated sofa and some termite-infested bookshelves to decorate the hollow interior. Baki encouraged us to find a room as he himself took the one next to the kitchen, dropping his things on the ground and sitting on the floor, cross-legged. He did it only when he was planning a design, and he was probably skimming over his options about refurnishing the place within the budget.

I neither wanted nor cared about any room, as I could easily live on anywhere, even outside, if I wanted. It wasn't like I actually _slept_. Shukaku clucked at me in agreement, as he observed the white walls. Chuckling, he crackled,

_What beautiful, pure walls, perfect to destroy, demolish, soil with red, isn't it? To rip apart the crusted plaster and mix it with fine red liquid, panting rainbows in blood at the wall, yes, good, go along with it, it's fine, persuade Baki, kill Baki, rip Baki to pieces…_

I tried to stop him but he dodged my hand, clucking as he bit my hand as punishment. I stare at the oozing blood on my finger blankly, without emotion, as Shukaku cackled maniacally,

_Never escape, can't escape, I'm a part of your life, a part of you, yes a part of you, you can never get rid of me, get rid of me, get rid of me, fool don't even try, I'm a part of you, you really like me don't you? Don't you? You like the blood, the smell, the excitement of the kill? Don't' even try…_

Shakily getting up from my position on the floor, I had crawled to the closest empty room available, which was the one straight across the hall from the kitchen. It was small, only about ten by fifteen feet and had a single pair of windows staring out above the street below. Baki had returned from his out-of-the-world-thinking and was wandering from room to room asking what we wanted.

Temari, who had obviously been crying judging from those ugly streak marks on her cheeks, sniffed and mumbled something about wanting the walls purple and the wooden line white and she didn't really care about the bed except that she wanted lots of coverlets. Konoha was freezing cold, especially since we'd just come from Suna, which had been situated in the desert. Unused to the unbearable chill, Temari had also worn a thick black parka over her dress, Kankuro had on at least three hoodies and I myself had reluctantly decided to wear a maroon jacket over my blank tee.

Kankuro had wanted some new black clothes and a bucket of black paint to not paint the walls, but to paint murals and writings all over the ceiling. "Why?" Baki had demanded in his commander-voice.

"It helps me get through it," Kankuro had answered quietly, arms stuck straight to his side, "So I don't have to hear her voice at night anymore."

Needless to say, Baki let him have his black paint, and let Temari have her white and purple paint, but he wouldn't let me have the red paint.

I narrowed my eyes at his refusal, Shukaku bristling next to me, arms crossed. "Why not let us take the red, the red, and paint the walls like blood?"

"Exactly." He said, as if it was all explained in what I had just said, "Now tell me something that is at least _sane_ please."

In the end after an hour of not letting me have several things, like handcuffs and more knives, he finally allowed me to get a desk and, amazingly, a stereo system. Our family (if you counted Baki) was more then poor and couldn't afford that many things, especially concerning technology. The only time we received any form of technological entertainment was that one time our father sent us gifts in bulk—Christmas.

Most of the time he just sent Temari a new CD that she didn't even like (she would slip it into my room as bribes to not kill her), Kankuro, a Game Boy game (Kankuro never plays Game Boy games anymore, and, instead, sells them to EB Games and uses the money to buy more necklaces and bling-bling), and me, an iDog. He _always_ sent iDogs to me when he was still alive.

For each year, a different color, even though I already hissed at him more then once with the help of Shukaku that I liked Red, and I only liked Red and damn it if I liked another color so stop sending them to me! That is why, now, I have a whole shelf of the little things, including some iCats and an iFish sent during those years where the iPod company failed to produce another iDog color.

Note he gave me these things years before Baki bought me my first iPod for my birthday. Stupid Dad.

I had sat reluctantly on the floor as the movers struggled to fit four skinny twin beds into the twice as skinny doorframe, contemplating my life as it was going to be. Normally I would have spent hours thinking ways to kill and mince my fellow classmates, but after 'promising' Temari not to kill, I just thought about what I should do.

Shukaku was not so happy about this.

_Kill them, here in the room, steal the handcuffs, cuff them to the bed and hear them shriek, shriek so lovingly as you rip into their skin—their-skin—_

_Stop_.

Shukaku stared at me in moment of defiance, and I stared back.

And then it began-- five years ago, in my room, marked the beginning of my struggle for dominance and freedom against a demon that I had so innocently created myself, ten years before.

--

I walk aimlessly down our street, and then back up again, in contemplation. I didn't really know where to go, except taking my bike and driving to Neji's. However, I'd already filled up my mileage limit for the week, with all that driving to Neji's house and then to work and then to the psychiatrist (I chose not to walk there for fear of getting lost again), and I really didn't want to get in trouble with the justice system again.

Speaking of work, I lodge it into my head it would be splendid idea to visit my workplace and maybe catch a glimpse of Naruto in the process. Stuffing my hands in my jacket-pockets, I briskly stride down the street into the No-Man's Marketplace in search of the little blonde. It was around that time of day, too, that he would be having lessons.

The marketplace is bustling, but not crowded, and I easily maneuver my way through the groups of shoppers and duck underneath a large sign that welcomed everyone to Namiki Market Square (the official name, though everyone calls it No-Man's Market anyways). Strolling down beyond the preppy fashion boutiques, I find myself at Konoha Music Industries. Slinking in, I enjoy the sound of contemporary rock filtering through the speakers, and bow habitually to Anko-san, who just looks at me blearily through sleep-deprived eyes. To those wondering how I just discovered a new name, she's wearing a nametag. I cock my head to the side pityingly—the poor woman usually didn't look so down unless she was in one of her no-money-too-much-work-hungry-sleep-deprived stages, which happened about once every three months.

Taking off my shoes before the practice rooms, I slipped into Room 7 and spot Naruto right away.

I really appreciate this organization of musicians because they didn't believe in just playing classical—they encouraged playing more modern music that would actually let us earn our own living in the future by appealing the majority of the population (face it, how many people do you know who listen to classical all day and how many people do you know listen to rock, heavy metal, rap, or pop?). Konoha Music Industries is where Naruto, Sasuke, and Neji learned to play their various musical instruments since they were all children. I, however, learned to play the guitar from forcefully demanding Baki to teach me, and just worked here instead, teaching the kids how _this_ string was a G and _that_ string was an E and no! What are you doing!

Lessons often ended with me struggling to grab a broken string away from an overenthusiastic little brat and them trying to play guitar with it even if it was just a damn _string_ if they broke it and didn't make any noise at all unless they whacked it against something.

"You have to think about articulation here," Hatake-sensei, says, bored, as he points out a mistake the younger boy had made in a particular measure, "If you quicken your pace too fast the piece sounds too rushed. Pay attention the _piano_ sign here, it's supposed to be quiet, not ear-shriekingly loud." Naruto grits his teeth and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath, going backwards to where he made the mistake and replaying the measure.

Hatake-sensei notices me and gives a wink of recognition. I ignore him and sit, one foot resting on my knee, watching and listening to Naruto play.

Naruto didn't only play acoustic guitar—he also did drums (but not as good as Sasuke), violin, and, currently, piano. He only had one teacher, though—the one and only, lazy yet amazingly genius music prodigy Hatake Kakashi, whom his aunt and uncle had hired for him.

I admire Naruto as he plays.

His handsome, yet cute and still childish profile is set and concentrated on his piece. Light, fluffy-like spiked hair is half-combed back and yet still adorably messy at the same time. Beautiful blue eyes sparkled with quiet anticipation and determination, and his pink-tinted lips were pursed together as he messed up over and over again.

"Naruto," Hatake-sensei's voice is stricter, "Focus."

"I _am_ focusing," The boy growled angrily, slamming his fingers against the piano in an obviously unfocused way. I sit quietly, basking in the pleasure that I got to watch Naruto without him realizing I was there.

He never realizes that I was there.

"Now, now," Hatake-san's eye curves up, as if he was laughing (I can never tell because he wears this scarf that covers most of his face), "Don't get angry. Angry clouds your judgment!" Naruto seems to bristle even more.

"Argh…" He looks pointedly at the clock positioned over the piano, "Time's up, Kakashi-sensei. I've got to go." Abruptly standing, he packs his books into his bag and stomps off without once looking my way. I stare at Hatake-san, who stares back and shrugs.

"He's very hot-tempered, that one," The man says off-handedly, "But he's a pretty good musician. Why are you here, Gaara? You're off today."

"I'm bored," I answer shortly, getting up as well, "So I came to watch Naruto."

"Ah…" His eye curves upwards again in a smile, "Young love, eh? Got to tell Iruka about this one…"

"You aren't telling Umino-san anything," I snap a little too defensively, "Keep my workplace and my psychological findings separate, please." I leave too, then, sighing as I wonder where to go next.

Seeing that I didn't have much time left anyhow since Temari was probably running around screaming because she couldn't find _me_ now, I decide to pick up a smoothie from Jamba Juice (copyrighted) and walk back home.

--

"H-he s-said I-I—" Temari wails, tears streaming down her face and all over her white skirt, smearing her makeup, "I-I--- he s-said h-he did-dn't w-want to s-see me an-any m-moooooore!" That last word came out as a heart-wrenching wail and she clings tight to Kankuro, sobbing hard into his shoulder and smearing mascara all over his black hoodie. He doesn't notice though, just grips her in a sort of soothing way and try to comfort her.

"Now, Ne-chan, its ok, its fine, it's not the end of the world… Maybe he didn't mean it and he's coming ba—"

"H-he's n-not coming b-baaaaaaack!" Temari coughs and gulps, then starts wailing again, "H-he e-even told m-me I c-could keep the r-riiiiiiiiiing!"

Right now I want to take my switchblade, track down Shinichirou Yuki and chop him into a million, tiny little pieces. As much as I imagined chopping up my older siblings when I was younger, I still hated to see them, especially Temari, cry. And, Kankuro and I being rather protective younger siblings, because of this it was our duty to go track him down and bring him to justice.

Except the fact that Temari just sobbed harder when we told her what we were going to do.

"I-I st-still loooooooooove him," She cries, and Kankuro goes to get some more tissues for her runny nose and smeared makeup, "I-I d-don't want to huuuuuuuuurt him b-but he h-hurt m-me f-f-f-fi—" Here she just breaks down in sobs, words totally incomprehensible as she's leaning on Kankuro's shoulder again, "W-waaaaaaah!"

I'm starting to feel panicky. I don't know what to do—when Baki was still here, it was _his_ job to calm Temari down. Since she was the eldest, it was always her duty to protect and comfort us, and so we really weren't used to it being the other way around.

I consider my options, and, cringing, pick the one that seems the safest.

"I'm going to call someone over," I inform Kankuro, who looks like he wants to argue but can't because of a certain sobbing, hair messed-up blonde who has a death grip on his left arm.

Picking up the phone, I dial (854)-224-0245 and wait for someone to pick up.

Finally, a drab voice comes out from the other end of the phone line, "Hello?"

"Hey," I say, shakily, glancing at Temari's shaking form with nervousness, "Temari's sobbing her heart out here because her fiancé just dumped her and Kankuro and I don't know what to do. Can you come over and pick her up? Please?"

There is silence on the other end of the phone. I wait for him to reply, and, after a sigh, he says, "Ok, ok, just stay there, alright? I'm on my way."

Putting the phone down in relief, I sit next to my older sister and awkwardly try to stroke her back, "Ne-chan, someone's on their way to make you feel better ok? So just… just…" Kankuro stares at me and I try to come up with some words, "Just wait here?"

We waited in dead silence interrupted by hiccups and sobs wracking Temari's body, until, finally the silence was broken.

The doorbell rang.

--

(1) :: Stupid FFnet doesn't let me use the 'AT' symbol...

Author's Notes: ANOTHER CHAPTER FINISHED! Who is the person knocking on the door? (Ok, so he's ringing the doorbell, but same concept) Lol to reviewers! I love you all! (hugs) Do you want marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate or ramen. GO RAMEN! XD I'm working on the next chapter! I'm actually almost finishing this thing OO. Heh...


	8. Name: Love Buried Underground

I'm standing at the doorway

The doorknob's wet with dew

He looks at me with solemn eyes

And says-- 'After You'

My breath is low and shallow

My heart is shattered, pierced

A blood-red stain emerges

His eyes so dark and fierce

He stretches out a hand

And clasps it with my own

Leading me towards daylight

The seeds of love first sown

_--by Sabaku no Temari_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

Neji is all dressed up and I think it's both funny and odd at the same time. Instead of the usual turtleneck and jeans, he's wearing a shoulder-hugging long-sleeve with a black tang-top underneath, showing off his neck and charm-necklace, matched up with some funky looking black pants that bellowed out at the bottom. His hair is clipped back in loops with the same white barrettes he had worn four years ago at the pep assembly in junior high, but his forehead is still covered with a thin linen cloth.

Everyone in Drama gapes.

Shikamaru whistles mockingly and Neji shoots him an offhand glare. Coolly positioning himself next to the blue-haired girl who had been staring at me all day yesterday, he flips through the script the drama teacher had handed him on his way in.

"My," I whisper lowly, "_You're_ all dressed up today." He promptly ignores me and, instead, starts reciting his lines as the princess.

Let me back up a bit.

The teacher had posted the results of our auditioning for the play _Falling_, by Jenko Sani, this morning by the Drama Gates and people were still talking about it.

The play itself was a rather morose one: it was about a young woman who lived as a prostitute in a special underground city. She was raised as one and didn't know any other way to earn money besides spreading her legs for any man that came. Her boss told her constantly as she was growing up that she may never cry, no matter what happened, and that was what she did. However, one day the harem she had been staying at was burned down, killing her adoptive mother and best friend in the process.

Fleeing, she realizes the only way to escape the law is to attempt to find her way above ground. She makes friends with a young runaway boy who calls himself 'Rat' and they, eventually after a lot of short adventures where a whole lot of unimportant cast come into being, crawl through a hole up above. However, their visions of what must be paradise above are shattered when all they see are the burnt ruins of thousands of cities everywhere. A voice tells them the tale of the two cities, how finally the underground escaped the monopoly above by committing mass genocide above.

In horror, the woman knelt down on the ground and starting weeping into her hands. But as she wept, plants started sprouting from her tears and grew out of the ashes. Rat watched in wonder as a splendid forest comes up, but the woman doesn't notice. She cried and cried not only for the people, but for all the times she had told herself she couldn't cry. Rat told her to stop, but she refused and keeps sobbing. Eventually, the tears swallow her up and she herself morphs and turns into a forever weeping tree in the middle of the forest.

It turns out that the woman had actually been the princess of the royal family from the land-dwellers, and had possessed the ability to create trees. The voice that had told them the story was a being made up of all her ancestors, to plot revenge against the underground people. By creating a forest above, the trees took minerals the underground people needed and almost destroy the city below. Rat, who was in fact the prince of the underground people, sacrifices himself by kissing the frozen figure of the woman, thus, turning himself into a tree…

Yes, sad, I know. Two lovers forever holding each other for all eternity, though both too dead to realize their feelings for each other until too late.

I was playing an unimportant role as one of the people who tried to stop the princess from going above ground. Shikamaru ended up being the entity the ancestors had created; Dog-boy was their faithful sidekick dog (yes… I know…), Neji was the prostitute/princess and Lee was Rat. All in all, our roles were majorly mixed up and made my head hurt just thinking about it.

"Man," I mutter under my breath, quietly, as I examine my own lines, "I've got a page full of lines…"

"At least you_ have_ lines," Dog-boy informs me, hands clasped behind his head, "All _I_ get to say is 'arf, arf' and 'bark, growl'." I sort-of nod towards him in sympathy, but not really. Most people get terribly offended if they score a no-line part, like being a tree, but I just found it handy. Less lines to memorize. No lines at all, if you're lucky, like Dog-boy.

"Oh, Nako!" Lee suddenly bellows, causing everyone in a thirty feet radius to jump up in shock, "Shall we PROCEED?" The drama teacher shoots him an annoyed look.

"No, no, Lee, in this part Rat is supposed to sound _solemn_, not heroic, ok? Now try again!"

"Yosh!" Lee shouts, enthusiastically saluting, "Aye, sir!" Neji, who had just glanced briefly upwards, rolls his eyes in exasperation and goes back to his lines. Hard to believe the two major roles—both male and female—belonged to_ those_ two.

I'm telling you, those girls were seething in anger when they found the leading female part had been given out to a _guy_. Well, Neji looked and acted the part well, so…

"Alright!" The teacher claps his hands, "First line rehearsal is going to be tomorrow, ok? I want everyone to grab one of those history books and look up your character!" Everyone groans, and the teacher crosses his arms. "Now!"

I reluctantly remove a book from an icy metal shelf and flip through some boring paragraphs about how back in the old day cops had the responsible to blah and blah, and more blah…

I look up and find it more amusing to watch my pale-eyed best friend interact with his ecstatic over-optimistic ex-boyfriend who has now found it a fun pastime to try and annoy the hell out of Neji.

"Nako! My love!" Lee is shouting at the top of lungs again, "_I cannot live without you!_" This was the scene where Rat kissed the frozen figure of Nako, and Lee is comically trying to push his lips against Neji's. Fortunately, Neji is both stronger and faster and has the other boy by the neck in a flash.

"Lee!" The Drama teacher shouts, "Don't molest Hyuuga!"

Of course he doesn't know that Lee couldn't even molest a _fly_ even if he wanted to, as the boy was as dense as a brick and that _he_ was the in danger because of Neji's-impending-doom. After huffily pushing the eccentric off him and fixing his hair in a handheld mirror he carried everywhere, Neji apparently 'went back to his lines'.

Note, 'apparently'. He would mutter the lines to himself, tapping his chin, then steal glances at Lee, who is now completely engrossed in stocking his eyeballs a tenth of a millimeter away from his paper. When he would look down, Lee would look up and stare at Neji for a while, appreciating the necklace and his collarbone (I'm not sure if this is possible, but Neji has a very nice collarbone), before shrugging and going back to his paper. Neji would then look up again.

Occasionally they would look at each other in the same time, and Neji would sort of jump up, startled, and look away heatedly, while Lee would just scratch his head.

It was totally, absolutely _infuriating_.

Neji was too serious and in self-denial to believe that he was falling in love with his ex-boyfriend all over again.

Lee was just too stupid.

Shikamaru, who was talking quietly to Kiba in their corner by the stands, exchange glances with me, look at Neji and Lee, and mouths 'shove them'.

"What?" I mouth back, and this time he adds a little motion of taking one person and shoving them into the other.

"Shove them." He repeats

. I stare at him. _Touching_ Neji when he did not want to be touched is a guarantee to have your hand bit off. _Shoving_ Neji when he _definitely did not_ want to be shoved is guaranteed suicide.

But then, standing here looking at Neji and Lee check each other out when the other wasn't looking makes me want to commit suicide right now, anyways.

I sigh, put down my book, and cross the room to meet up with the other boy.

"Neji," I say, loudly, "You still need to give me the sketches for the t-shirts to give to Shika." He looks up from his paper. Glaring narrowly, he nods and sighs, then leans over to reach into his backpack.

In one swift motion I plant a foot on his back and watch him yelp as he tumbles over… into Lee's lap.

Lee stares down at the mess of chocolate-brown hair spilled all over his jeans. Neji, who was still in shock, has his cheek set on the other senior's chest and his eyes were darting in a way that I _knew_ he was considering his options at this moment. One, kill Gaara. Two, kill Gaara. Three, kill Gaara and then murder all the witnesses.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for what's going to happen next. Will Neji scream and run out of the room? Will _Lee_ scream and run out of the room? Will they _both _scream and run out of the room? Of course, there's the chance that they might suddenly realize their love and start making out, but then that's near impossible.

Lee puts a finger under Neji's chin, tilting his face upwards, so the other boy is now looking up into his face. Standard-kissing-position?

_Wait, so they were confessing their love and going to make out?_

Sadly, no.

"Neji," Lee says solemnly, putting his other hand under the silky bundle that was Neji's hair, "Your hair's all messed up." He carefully brushes the strands back from Neji's face and I think everyone in the room _died_.

Either Lee was flirting very, very obviously or he was just being kind-in-a-naïve-way and had no clue that what he was doing might have been interpreted as a show of affection.

Neji, who obviously thought it was the latter, jerks away from Lee's grasp and huffily tries to stand up. However, the eccentric senior wasn't about to let him go _that_ fast. "Neji!" He announces, louder, "I was the one that messed up your hair, thus I shall fix it! Yosh!" Neji visible cringes at the prospect of Lee fixing his hair.

Actually, when the two were dating, Neji had been the one to fix _Lee's_ hair. Rumor had it Lee used to wear a shiny black bowl-cut all the time before Neji got pissed off in seventh grade and chased Lee with a pair of scissors until he agreed that he'd let his boyfriend change his hairstyle. Now, Lee wore his hair up in black spikes that were tall enough to look good but not enough to look like an overgrown porcupine.

Lee carefully pulls Neji's head towards him and amazingly he let him. Putting a hand in Neji's hair, he starts nimbly combing it with his fingers. Neji, who was just a little surprised, doesn't show any emotion. Or doesn't appear to show any motion, to everyone who didn't know him very well.

As I knew him very well, I can see that he's definitely enjoying himself.

Shikamaru glances at me and winks.

Operation Get-Lee-to-Make-a-Move—success!

--

I'm at the doorway.

"Take care of her, Nara."

Shikamaru just nods, hoisting my sister onto half his shoulder because she was too upset to stand on her own.

"She can stay there as long as she likes, but make sure she doesn't come home until she's better."

"I know."

Nodding a sharp good-bye, he turns away and walks down the stairs with my sister sniffling with pain.

Kankuro and I watch from the doorway as our one and only sister disappears with a near stranger yet familiar friend into a black car, and drives away into the darkness.

--

Though I am unhappy and stiff to go, Neji, being the boy or man he is (I don't know _what_ to call him anymore), almost literally threw me over his shoulder and dumped me into that place whether I wanted to or not. Not wanting me to use up more of my motorcycle mileage, he was generous enough to arrive at my doorstep in his red Porsche at twelve PM sharp.

If Kankuro didn't know better and didn't fear his life, he'd probably say, 'New boyfriend, eh?' But of course, he is thankfully smart enough to keep his mouth shut and just stood there in the doorway with his arms crossed, obviously waiting for Temari to come home.

Slumping down into the passenger seat, I raise a brow at the older boy's dramatic date-like entrance. "What's with this? I usually go over to your house _then_ you drive me…"

"Not going over to Naruto's house today," He says shortly, trying to drive and fix his hair in the rearview mirror at the same time (It's a little uncombed in the back and makes the back of his head look like a messed up maze), "He said he decided to practice at Sasuke's.

I groan in agony, running a hand through my own hair (looking at Neji messing with his hair makes me want to mess with mine, ok?), "Whaaaaat? But didn't Sasuke say he never wanted us over his house because of his insane brother?" Neji shakes his head a little, finally reaching over to grab some water to smooth down the gravity-defying hair strands.

"I don't know, but we're going to Sasuke's. He lives the farthest away from me, so it doesn't take as long if I picked you up from your doorstep. Don't you dare whine, or I'll take out my List of Things to Whack Lee With and whack _you_ upon the head."

I wasn't thinking of whining anyways, just sighing and staring out the car window. Blurs of earth-tone hues flash across my view, accompanied by the occasional yellow or orange streak of a street cone or pedestrian crossing. Neji's silent, except for the occasional cough or clearing of the throat that grated on my nerves and kept me on edge.

He's wearing a neat, white collared button-up shirt and some slacks. Unlike me, he looks _good_ in slacks. His hair is pulled back in that meticulous Hyuuga manner and tucked neatly behind his shoulder (except for the wild strands on the back of his head, but hey, he fixed it, alright?), and his expression is oddly soft.

We're silent all the way there. Eventually, the tall peaks of Uchiha Manor come into view, and I almost shiver with anxiety at the deep aura being emitted from the place. Walls painted a dark navy blue, almost edging onto pure black, the architect was obviously thinking _dark, mysterious, and Goth-like creepy_ when he was designing the huge building.

Twin towers are erected from the midst of large ornate gates and archways, cold, black, and spiraling upwards into a jagged tooth-like point. In-between the two is a dark, though warm-looking building that sort of resembled the Hyuuga residence, though oppositely orientated, obviously. Neji stops the car and motions for me to get out along with him. Shouldering the large backpack I had grabbed on my way out of the flat, I am surprised that the Uchiha residence did not have humongous front gate, like Neji's house.

I am about to knock on the large ebony door when Neji stops me. "I'll do this," He says quietly, and knocks the doorknocker.

I wonder briefly why he wouldn't let me do the knocking myself. Shortly afterward, my question is answered.

"Hello? Who is it?" A singsong voice can be heard inside, the door swings open. Standing in the doorway is a youngish man about the same height as Neji, dark hair pushed back into a tight ponytail behind him and curious looking crimson eyes. When Shukaku was still here he always talked about getting crimson eyes, but I think he meant eyes drenched in blood, not red irises. "Oh, it's Neji right? And who's this?" He peers at me, and the initial cuteness wore off.

His elegant-shaped nose and curved, crimson eyes were exactly like Sasuke's, but the likeness in his face and attitude basically ended there. His mouth didn't curve in a natural smile, but the edges of his lips seemed to always be in a sort of quirky smirk, unlike Sasuke's stoic frown. Two identical lines curved downwards from the inside of his eye to a little halfway down his nose, and I couldn't really tell if they were scars or just wrinkles. I highly doubt wrinkles though. The guy looks like he's only twenty-four, twenty-six-ish. His chin was slightly rounded and jutted out a little more then Sasuke's, and the way his neck held his head up and connected it to his broad shoulders was definitely more masculine then my emo friend.

"Gaara," Neji says, flatly, "This is Sabaku no Gaara."

A smile curves on the man's face, and he gingerly grasps my hand in a strong handshake. "Ah! Gaara! Sasuke's sort of talked about you! Nice to meet you!" He's smiling, but his eyes are looking at me suspiciously. He doesn't trust me, and I don't really trust him, "I'm Itachi! Sasuke's older brother!"

"Older brother?" I say, blankly, "The one he says is insane?"

"Well," Itachi responds, dryly retrieving his hand from my grip and stuffing it into a jean pocket, "He doesn't really have any _other_ brothers, does he? He's always saying stuff like that about me, but he's just sulking. Come on in; he and Naruto are setting up the band things in the living room."

As we walk in and turn the corner, the man just seems to vanish. I look back, and see no one there. Puzzled, I exchange glances with Neji.

"Don't worry," The Hyuuga reassures me as we enter one of the Uchiha's (many) living rooms, "He always does that."

"Ah," I respond.

Naruto's bending over, adjusting a music stand, and I can't help but take a good look at his butt. Sasuke's watching me though, and his eyes narrow in my direction as he nods at Neji and me.

"Hey," He says, crossing his arms stoically, "Has my older brother scarred you for life?"

"No," Neji chuckles and motions for me to put down my backpack, "He amazingly acted quite normal today. All he did was say 'hello' and let us in." Naruto, who has finished adjusting the music stand and has turned around to acknowledge us, puts a hand to his heart and gasps.

"Uchiha Itachi? _Normal_? My, he must _really_ like you, Gaara."

I appear and feel confused. "Huh?"

Sasuke rolls his eyes and goes and drags the unpacked drum set from his corner to start assembly. "My brother is a world-class idiot slash insane maniac. He got into an argument with my parents when I was around eight, then decided to disown them and move away."

"You can disown parents?"

"Sort of… he disowns them, they disown him, same ending. Anyways, he moves away to this ok apartment and lives by himself for a freakin' month before butting back into the Uchiha business by announcing he wanted custody of me and he wanted custody of me _now_." I'm staring at him. This is the most Sasuke's told me of his past and I wanted to hear every word.

"Anyways, my parents weren't exactly compliant because they needed an Uchiha heir and damn them if it was going to be Itachi, and they had this _huge_ legal battle over my custody and adoption. At first, my parents apparently 'won' and Itachi backed off for three months, and then all of sudden he launches another attack of get-a-hold-of-Sasuke! and they fight for another half a year. Finally, Itachi won the case and I moved in with him."

I am perplexed, "But you said he lived in an ok apartment. What are you doing here?"

Sasuke is quiet for a moment, and I look at his face and see his features tight with remorse, regret, and sadness. He catches me staring at him, and his expression softens. "Well, you can say my… family… got caught in an accident two years later… and they… all died."

Before I can ask what happened, he says, "There was a fire, ok? Not here, otherwise the whole place would be burned down, but at the old city hall. My entire family was there, except Itachi and me, because Itachi didn't want to have anything to do with my family, and the building just _collapsed_. No one knew who or what started the fire, and they dismissed it as an accident." He shakes his head, "I don't know, but afterwards Itachi and I moved back into the Uchiha Manor and Itachi took over our parents' company. Most people, hearing he's the CEO of Uchiha Industries, think he's some suave business guy that can sweet-talk anyone down."

Naruto snorts as he finishes tuning his guitar, "Itachi's sweet, I admit, but he's crazy. Do you remember that time he heard that you wished it was raining cats and dogs and he literally went out, kidnapped all the dogs and cats in the neighborhood, and threw them all off the roof?"

Sasuke sort of cracks up in this Uchiha-way (which means he sort of just smirks), "I remember. And they didn't get hurt because Itachi hadn't mowed the lawn for two months? He claimed it was because long lawns were nature's right path and that interfering with nature gave us bad luck?"

Naruto's nodding his head, and it's obvious the two were going into some major flashback mode, "Remember all those weird things he used to do? Once when we were in third grade and he dragged us to the kitchens and made us make this weird recipe that looked like poop? I ate some but he told me it wasn't for eating and made us write 'I will not lie' on all the doors?"

Sasuke groans, "Man, I can't forget _that_ week. The whole manor smelled like cinnamon for _days_!" Neji looks at me and I look at him and I know that he knows we have _absolutely, no idea what they are talking about_.

"And—and, that time," Naruto's laughing really hard now, "He pretended to be your big sister for a month! He actually got a perm and put on lipstick a-and borrowed a dress and talked in this high falsetto and wore fake boobs!"

"My god," Sasuke moans, covering his eyes, "I think he scarred some innocent young boys all that week for _life_."

Naruto is still talking, "And then that month he decided he was bisexual, went on the internet, printed off some gay and straight images and taped them all over the house? There was even some porn in there!"

"He even insisted on posting some of those damn papers on my back, too," Sasuke sighs, "He said it raised awareness to gay rights and couples."

Naruto nods, "And he always sounds like he's high. He'd talk for five minutes normal, and then all of a sudden his voice would suddenly get higher and higher and squeakier and squeakier until his victim is sure he's on helium or something, and then he'd scare them half to death by letting out this animal-like _roar_."

"Always followed by the standard Itachi-cackle."

Naruto giggles, "And sometimes, if he's crazy enough, he'd do his little underwear dance."

Neji groans, "When I first came he did that to me…"

Sasuke and Naruto exchange looks, and, with identical evil looks, they start chanting, "Underwear! I need a spare! Because I'm not! Wearing Underwear! They're too messed up! They're turning green! How can I sleep! My little," They cough here, "_Ahem_! Can be seen! Sticking out! From my worn jeans!"

"Stop it!" Neji shouts, covering his ears, and they, including me, break into laughter. "That's not funny! He even took off his pants and started mimicking a penis!" Neji is the only person I know who referred to a man's _thing_ as a penis with a straight face, "Then he disappeared and then reappeared behind me and pinched my butt. And then…"

"He stripped, right?" Naruto's laughing himself hoarse, "He took off his boxers, put them on his head, and then, with a tribal scream, he ran off down the hall?"

"No," Neji's shaking his head, "He first started screaming, took of his boxers, put them on _my _head and took off down the hall."

This makes everyone laugh louder. Itachi, who was probably in the kitchen, screams, "SASUKE! You're interfering with my spiritual vibe! Keep the amount of energy down to a minimum, gracias!"

"No comprehendo!" Sasuke screams back, "Yo no hablo espanol!" There are tears streaming down Naruto's face, he's laughing so hard.

Who knew life at the Uchiha's was so much like a day-time drama?

Neji, who had started laughing along with Naruto, stops and says, "Well, he's only weird _sometimes_. He's a pretty nice guy other times, though; like Naruto says, he's sweet." He aims a look at Sasuke, who has finished assembling the drum set, "Unlike _another_ Uchiha I know."

Sasuke scowls, "Who, me?"

"What other Uchiha is there in the world?"

"Point taken."

This is probably the most relaxed I've felt for _weeks_. It's almost like before the whole Sasuke-Naruto Make-out thing, Temari's ruined marriage plans, and Neji's spastic breakdown with Lee. Things felt _normal_.

The phone rings.

"Sasuke!" Itachi emerges from his 'spiritual-vibe-finding', "Sakura's on the phone! And tell her not to talk too long, I've got to make plans with Kisame later, ok?"

Sasuke grins and waggles his eyebrows in a way I've never seen him do before.

"'Plans'? Aw, are you two going on another date?" Itachi, who was holding a stuffed wolf in his left hand, throws the toy at his younger brother heatedly.

"Sasuke!"

"Ok, ok, I'll stop!"

Putting a loose strand of hair behind his ear, the older Uchiha glares his little brother down. Itachi with a glare is scary. Itachi with a glare did _not_ look like the manically insane man Naruto and Sasuke said he was. Itachi with a glare can take a knife and cut anyone in his way into a thousand different pieces. Itachi with a glare is to be _avoided_.

"If you try to embarrass me again in front of your little friends, I _swear_, I'll steal all your black clothes for a month!" Sasuke looks stunned at the aspect of no-black-clothes for a month. Itachi sort of huffs, turns heel and strides out the room, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

"Man," Naruto says, scratching his head, "He must be _really_ low-tone today, eh" Sasuke doesn't say anything because he's talking to Sakura.

"Yes… no… no, Sakura, I mentioned it to you last time…" He sits cross-legged on the couch (like Umino-san…) and continues to chat away. Naruto pokes me and motions for the song and lyrics for the Battle of the Bands. I hand him the script and Neji hands him the lyrics, and he skims them over quickly.

As I admire the Uchiha's wondrous silk-covered couch, their beautifully woven navy-blue rug and the coffee table which Sasuke and Naruto had moved over next to the couch to make room for the drum set and microphone system, I spot Itachi leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded, staring at me. He motions for me to come over wordlessly, face devoid of any emotion and eyes glimmering coldly in the dark light.

I don't know, but after all Naruto and Sasuke had said about insane-brother-Itachi, he didn't look very insane _now_. I quietly slip out of Naruto's scrutinizing gaze and join the older Uchiha in the kitchen. He acknowledges me with a curt nod, as if it was no time for jokes and what he was about to tell me was very serious.

I wait for him to say something.

Cocking his head, he examines me, and then smiles, as if pleased at what he sees.

"Gaara… you've got a _thing_ for Naruto, don't you?"

I sort of flinch in surprise. He lifts his head and looks at me with that quirky smirk on his face, as if contemplating how to phrase his next words. Eyes narrowing in both amusement and warning, he whispers, quietly so Sasuke can't hear, "Look, I'm pretty sure you know that Otouto's got something going for that little blonde, too, right?"

"What," I spit, suspiciously, "You want me to back off so your little brother-chan has a shot at molesting Naruto?"

Surprisingly, the Uchiha just laughs, not cackles, but laughs. It amazes me: from what I've seen myself of this guy, he was nothing like how the other's described him-- he's brutal, strict, sly, and had a sort of sadistic sense of humor, as if it amused him that his brother's friends thought he was a totally insane maniac. Of course, I knew better. I know what a totally insane maniac was like. I _was_ a totally insane maniac, once.

"No, no, actually I approve of your affection for the little blonde," Itachi taps the side of his chin with his index finger, looking off into the distance as he spoke, "Actually, I'm going to say 'go for it!'. Otouto… he's just really confused right now. He's trying to figure out his… feelings… by going out with Sakura and hitting on Naruto, reason being his thought that he'll just hurt one person when he dumps them, but in the end he'll just end up hurting them both, you know?"

I nod. Itachi thinks a heck of a lot like the way I think, which was a little scary, if I thought about it.

"So the best thing to do is to either convince Sasuke to dump one of them now, dump both of them, or get someone else to date or fall in love with either Sakura or Naruto. Since even _I'm_ not sadistic enough to try and pair someone up with Sakura, my immediate thought was to get a match with the little ball of sunshine."

I narrow my eyes and glare at the older man, "So in the end I'm just a tool to help Sasuke 'get over' his feelings?"

He shrugs, as if it didn't really matter. It probably didn't, "Hey, you can think that way, but in the end it makes sense, doesn't it? If you and Naruto hook up, then Sasuke won't end up hurting him and he might just possibly fall in love with Sakura, Lord I _pray_ he does, you'd be happy, Naki—no, Neji, right?—would finally breath a sigh of relief, and Kisame wouldn't have to listen to Sasuke's descriptive rants about the best sex positions for both men and women." I stare at him because of the last comment, but he doesn't do anything but widen his smile, "In the end, everyone wins, you know? So give it a try. I just wanted to explain some stuff to you and let you know that I'm on your side."

I stare at him before he lightly turns me around and gives me a light push towards the living room. I see that Sasuke and Naruto have finished setting up the band things, and were arguing heatedly with one another while they were waiting for me. At first I wanted to join them, apologize for being late and get going with the songs. However, a thought had just briefly crossed my mind.

"Itachi-san," I say, formally, turning back towards him. He peers at me in a sort of half-curious manner.

"Hm?"

"The whole 'I'm Sasuke's Brother and I'm Insane!' thing… it's just an act, right?"

Itachi, who had gone back to his icy stone-set face, let the ends of his lips twitch upwards in a sort of cunning smile, "You're real smart, aren't you? I find that Sasuke's little friends find it easier to talk to me if I act insane and harmless, instead of when I act like my normal self and scare the shit out of them with my dry humor."

I am about to ask why he acted different around me when he really pushes me forward this time, locking the kitchen door and shouting, in a loud voice, "THANK YOU GAA-GAA YOU HELPED ME RESTORE MY VIBE! SASUKE! Are you done talking to Sakura? _I NEED TO GO CALL KISAME NOW! _Don't you DARE list all the things that perverted Kakashi has been teaching you!"

As Itachi lists off a bunch of other things he wanted Sasuke to do, I wonder how these insane bouts of shouting could possibly occur unless Itachi was already a little naturally crazy in the first place.

--

I stare at myself in the mirror for a second, give a growl of frustration and rip off the tank, throwing it behind me. Neji, who is sitting with his legs crossed on my bed, catches it effortlessly and raises an eyebrow at my behavior. I scowl at him and pick up the next victim in my wardrobe.

"Just pick something."

"None of my clothes are good enough!"

Next to Neji, where he had tossed my thrown-away tank, is a pile of black hoodies, sweatshirts, t-shirts, more tank-tops, lacy-things that Baki had bought me for 'formal occasions', gloves, bandanas, and, even, a thong.

"Thong?" Neji had said, when I showed him it before I put it on, "Gaara, thongs are supposed to go on your butt." I had put it on my head in a frightening resemblance to Chouji, and had immediately tossed it aside along with the rest of the things.

"Why don't you go borrow some clothes from Kankuro or Temari?"

I groan, yanking a black-jacket t-shirt mix off the hanger and roughly untangling it from its knot, "Kankuro and Temari? You've got to be kidding me." Neji just sighs, getting up from his seat on the bed.

"Would you like it if I went and asked them for you?"

"Sure, whatever. But don't bring back anything that is pink, purple, or shiny bling-bling, ok?"

Neji snorts before leaving my room, "I'm not dumb."

As I wait for him to return, I try on at least three more pairs of shirt and pants I could wear to my date. A different style black tank with black cargo pants? Out the window. Red long-sleeve with a black tee over along with some navy jeans? Trash that. A black jacket over a red tee and some black slacks? Wait, why was I wearing slacks?

I strip back down to my boxers (which were red with little trains all over them… don't ask…) and sit, frustrated, on the bed. Neji appears shortly afterward, bunches of clothes in hand, and throws them at my half-naked body.

"Left is Temari," He orders, "Right is Kankuro. You fit into your siblings' clothes?"

I shrug as I sort through the new piles, "I fit into some of Kankuro's 'skin tight' ones and Temari and I are the same size. Oh, this looks good."

After playing around with some of the stuff my siblings had to offer (Neji claims both of them were pretty excited about sharing stuff with me but I doubt it) I finally, with Neji's help, decide on my outfit for today.

Black, corseted-tank top thing (the corset is at abdomen level, not bosom… because I do not have a bosom), with a pair of fingerless gloves. Dark black-jacket that hung loosely over my arms, but short enough to reveal my tank-top and gloves. A dark pair of black pants that hung _very_ loosely over my hips (Neji was cracking up as I wandered around the room looking for a belt because my pants were completely falling off), and a black stud in my ear.

I really looked no different from normal, except for the corset-thing and the earring, which was only to be expected. "You don't want to scare him off," Neji had said when I was wondering if I should wear something fancy or casual, "Make it look like a sort of mid-friend-love date, ok?"

After practice at the Uchiha's, I told Naruto I'd get ready and I'd let him get ready and that we'd meet each other at seven because even though the concert started at seven forty-five it was probably going to be really crowded at the convention center so it'd be best to get there early. Now it was around six-fifty and I think I was as close to a nervous wreck as I could ever get.

I tugged at my earring, "Neji, are you _sure_ this black is black enough?"

Neji sighs, "Yes, it is black enough."

I tug at the corset-thing letting anyone who looked close enough see a bit of my stomach, "Am I fat?"

Neji crosses his eyes, "No, Gaara, you are not fat."

I even looked at my hair in the mirror, "Neji…"

Neji snaps, "You are wonderfully perfect with the perfect clothes and body and you and Naruto will definitely have a perfect night and if you don't get into the car right this minute you'll _definitely_ be late!"

I scramble into the car not because I was scared of Neji but because the prospect of being late was all too frightening.

We drive to Neji's house, where Neji gets off, give me his car keys, and tell me if I get a scratch on his precious Porsche he will personally come over and rip my motorbike to pieces. Oh, I was stealing Neji's driver ID too, just in case the police came and realized I was a serial killer who was over-driving his mileage limit.

"Come back at at _least_ one," Neji warns as he waves me off, "My uncle's going to be kind of pissed that my car is gone already so don't you dare make it worse."

As I drive unfamiliarly down the driveway (I've driven our family's Chevy… twice) I gulp.

Operation Date-Naruto? Undetermined.

--

Author's Note: I know, I suck. I leave you all hanging for another chapter! (The date WILL happen... soon... possibly...) Everyone, kiss Itachi! He's cute, yes? I didn't feel like being all confusing and crap with the Uchiha's so I blunt out said their past because everyone else has dark pasts, we don't need another one... REVIEWERS/Glomps them/ I've opened a reviewer's shop! Just go in and grab whatever you want! The only price is a review /winkwink/ Heh. I'll update later! Ja!


	9. Name: Three Truths and No Lies

_AIM Message Sent From Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1 to Bluefire23::_

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: sasuke wat do u realy feel bout me?

Bluefire23: A friend

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: is that all?

Bluefire23: Probably. Why, are you looking for love?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: U SOB!

Bluefire23: Calm down, calm down. Anyways, I thought I was just a 'try-out'?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: well yeah but...

Bluefire23: At least we've got that clear. Our relationship is nothing but an experiment ok? If you want true love go after Gaara or something.

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: o i'm going on a date with him tonight

Bluefire23: Kiss him, well you?

_Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1 logs off_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

As I drove into the parking lot surrounding the Konoha Convention Center, my view is immediately filled with the bright flashes of yellow and red lights dancing from tens of hundreds of cars all beeping at one another. They were all so jam packed so that the bumper of the car in front of me was literally almost squeezing the front of Neji's precious Porsche into a wrinkled snout, not being a good thing of course. Doing the only logical thing at the time, in my opinion, I honked at him.

"Quit blocking up the driveway!" I scream, and the driver of the car in front of me pops his thousand-pierced face and brilliant green Mohawk out the window and screeches back.

"Shut the frick' up you frickin' loser!" Replace 'frick' and 'loser' with your own inappropriate phrases and you've got what he said to me. Naruto, who was curled up in the passenger's seat, joins into the merry shouting.

"Shove your frickin' Mohawk into your frickin' butt you dip—" I cast him a warning glance and the blonde boy breaks off mid-sentence, sheepish. He didn't exactly use the words 'frickin' and 'butt' either. Sighing, I give the car one last good honk before falling into silence.

Naruto shifts uncomfortably, unfurls himself, and raises his head to examine the outstretch of cars in front of us. I stare at him without shame (the traffic was so bad I could've gotten a cup of coffee and a donut and come back without having the cars move _at all_).

I was both surprised and pleased to see that Naruto had sort-of dressed up for the occasion as well when I had picked him up from his house. Instead of the usual thrown-on t-shirt and jeans, he wore a black tank-top, a silver necklace with a feather figurine attached at the tip, white pants and had been wearing a dark orange blazer but was now tied around his hips. As he raised his head, I think I stopped breathing when I saw the nape of his neck.

I wanted to bite it, and that was pretty disturbing in itself.

He whistles, "Good thing we decided to come early, eh? How will we ever find a parking spot?"

I really didn't want to think about that right now.

However, in the next _fifteen_ minutes I spent all my available time keeping an eye peeled for one, _just one_, parking space that was big enough to fit the Porsche into. Finally, it was Naruto had who screamed, "_Over there! PARK THERE!_"

After a little squabble of who's-parking-space-is-it-anyway with a white sedan, I finally braked the car, leaned back, and let out a sigh of relief. Naruto, misinterpreting my sigh as one of tiredness, shouts, "C'mon, Gaara, the party's only just started! We need to find _seats_ too!" Feeling a chuckle bubbling down in my throat, I open the door and throw myself out of the car, barely remembering to lock it.

If Neji found out that some weirdo had hijacked his precious automobile he'd be out for my blood for _sure_.

As we start for the entrance to the convention center, I casually take Naruto's hand. It was warm and soft, just how I examined them to be several weeks ago. He briefly looks into my face with a sort of quizzical glance, then smiles, giving my hand a squeeze, "Slowpoke! We'll be late!"

Before I can respond to his words _or_ the squeeze, he takes off, my hand still grasped in his own. Yelping as the momentum from his sprint jolts me forward, I am literally dragged to the entrance and squeezed past thousands of bustling people who were all just as excited to be at the concert as much as we were. If Naruto and I hadn't been holding hands, I _swear_ we would've lost each other within the first few minutes.

As the scent of sweat, perfume, gum and hair spray envelope me in a thick fog, I cough and huddle closer to Naruto, who was seemingly enjoying himself very much. "This is great!" He shouts loudly, but because everyone else was just as loud no one heard him, "Gaara! Let's try to get some good seats, ok?" Inside there was a moment of pitch darkness where the hall before the real auditorium was. I can hear Naruto's steady breath next to me.

I can hear everyone else's steady breath, too, but after I'd met the boy I was _trained _to hear his voice. And since voice comes through breathing at some level, I could really just filter out all other noise with ease.

Weird, I know, but true.

Suddenly the darkness lifts and the largeness of the dome makes me sort of stumble as I gape at the flashing white lights above me. Naruto, who's been at the convention center before, cheerfully continues to drag me towards some seats that he deemed worthy of our attention.

Large windows lined the left and right wings of the dome, leaving the middle area safely covered with a layer of steel plates that glinted in the light. The stage-area in the front is large and open, the band-members setting up their things in the shallow shadows not cast in blinding white. However, fans still screamed of their awesome greatness, even going as far as throwing shirts, pants, and, even, a thong at them.

"SWEET!" Naruto screams as we finally claim a seat in front of the scaffolding that hovered above the center area of the bleacher-seats (I don't know what they're called), "I'm actually in the same room as them! I'm seeing them live! Gaara, isn't this exciting?"

I nod dimly, and he gives this little shrill whistle in excitement as the lights slowly fade to a dark auburn, leaving the stage the only thing lit and visible in a mass of black and blue silhouettes. People start screaming and yelling out their names louder then before, whirling things in the air, stripping, and giving loud-pitched whistles that rung in my ear. The leader of the band, a young man with a blonde flat-top and a silver ring glimmering in one ear, amusingly holds up one hand for silence.

Naruto's face lights up in this way that I recognized as _extremely-high-on-excitement_ and I catch my breath as I see his lips sparkle in the dim light. Lips weren't supposed to sparkle. Actually, it was near impossible. Then why were his lips sparkling?

"Hey," The man on stage says and fans go wild just at the sound of his voice. Naruto, who was already excited, laughs out loud in sheer pleasure of being here, in the moment, in the same room, as his band-idol. I let a small sort of upward-twitching of my lips to creep onto my face at seeing the blonde so happy.

If he's happy, I'm happy.

Ok, just kidding. That was too cliché, even for me. It's more like 'If Uzamaki Naruto is ecstatic with happiness, I will feel satisfied because then I would know that there will always be a face that is alight with joy around in the world and that I shouldn't worry all that much anymore'.

But saying, 'if he's happy, I'm happy' is a heck of a lot shorter. And, being me who hated talking no matter what, short is _good_.

The band-member flashes a blinding smile and the crowd quiets. Continuing, he says, "I am so happy that all my wonderful fans have come to see us tonight, and I would like to say before we go on that I appreciate my secretary, _blah's _(I can't remember her name… nor can I remember the supreme band-leader's name even though everyone is shouting it out), help in helping to organize this striking event." There was an enormous applause, and a woman who had been tucked neatly away into the corner of the stage looks down and blushes. "And I want to dedicate this concert to someone I love very much—love almost the point of death." Everyone coos, except for the occasional fan girl that shrieked that only _they_ could have him and _damn_ them if anyone was going to have him other then them and sounded amazingly like Sakura.

As he stands there, the lights hovering over the stage dims so that the whole center is plunged into pitch darkness. Silence, and then, a whisper.

"Begin."

Naruto lets out a shrill scream of excitement as suddenly flames burst out from the stage and the dark tones of bass and guitars ring out from the now half-lit figures of the band-members. The music has started, and has sucked everyone in.

You can just see the pounding beats coursing through everyone's hearts as they go crazy, hair flinging everywhere as random girls pull away at hair ties, unbutton their shirts and even strip off their bras. Some boys howl and start clapping, some even daring to jump from their ledge into the mulling crowd, where they amazingly land unharmed and leaving everyone else unharmed as well.

Naruto is twisting, dancing, besides me, one arm in the air as he shakes his head up and down, flinging beautiful golden strands everywhere, lean muscles rippling in the fire-ridden light.

As he twisted, I realize how the ebony tank-top clung to his body revealingly; letting anyone who had the thought to look see the rippling muscles as the boy coursed with the music. Not that Naruto was particularly muscular, Sasuke and I being more well-built that he was in any case, he was just… lean. I liked how the muscle clung to his bones just enough to look ruggedly handsome and yet still cutely small at the same time.

The light auburn lights above us has changed back to an order of flashing white lights that made everything look as if it was blinking, like photo-shots of a crowd-gone-wild.

I can feel the thrill making me as giddy as the next guy over, though years of pushing down my feelings have won over the battle-for-dominance and make it as if I know the feelings are there, I'm just not attached to them.

I'm dancing as well, but not as smoothly or flirtatiously as the boy next to me, and I spend most of my time ignoring the dance moves being performed on stage and staring at Naruto.

The way his eyes lit up in his ecstasy and glimmered in the white light was breath-taking. His smile was small, but warm and sincere, tips of his lips curving upwards revealing perfect, white teeth. Golden locks fell onto his forehead with a sort of fluffy-like volume that made me want to lean forward and blow on them, as if they were light enough to fly off in the wind.

I look down, and I see we are still holding hands.

In that moment, I realized that what I had thought was love before was not.

Because the feeling I am experiencing now as the lights are flashing and the flames emerging frighteningly from the stage, was definitely, purely, and truly what love really is.

--

After the concert, while people are starting to file out of the aisles after the amount of screaming wears off, Naruto and I are still sitting in the silence. It wasn't an actual silence—there were those random idiots screaming love confessions to the band members and the people who were excitedly chatting with their friends about the concert, but it was still in a silence, nevertheless.

Naruto is creepily quiet. Why wasn't he shouting excitedly like he usually does? Turning towards me, he says, "That was really great, wasn't it?" I nod, adjusting my black coat self-consciously.

He smiles cutely, and I have the impulse to kiss him.

Cue inner-Gaara battle. Shukaku-Gaara says "Just make out with him, ok? It's not like you really care about him, right?"

Good-Naruto-Gaara whines, "But I _do_ care about him! I don't want to mess up!"

Shukaku-Demon scowls, "Don't think about frickin' messing up and just do it!"

Good-Naruto-Gaara is losing, "B-but…"

Shukaku-Demon smirks, "Just one, ok? One…"

I lean forward and use my free hand (can you believe we were still holding hands? Even though it's been more then two hours?) to tilt his chin upwards. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks at me in a sort-of surprise, cheeks dusted a light pink and he opens his mouth to say something.

Feeling flustered and my heart pounding ferociously on my chest, I use this as a chance to lean forward and--

"Hey, kids, get a move on," I jump half out of my skin and jerk away from Naruto, dropping his hand. I turn to face the intruder.

It was the punk green-Mohawk guy that had been driving the car in front of us. Who knew we'd meet again?

I stand up abruptly, shaking, giving a curt nod to the blonde, who had a mixed expression on his face (I can't say what his face was like without sounding judgmental) and say to the older man, "Excuse me, but my friend and I need to be off." Pulling Naruto with me, I swiftly cut off his course towards the exit and hurriedly run into the parking lot.

As I am driving home I cannot believe what I had just almost done. Was I _insane_? Was I trying to mess up my relationship with Naruto already on the first date? I'm beating myself over the head with Neji's convenient club-thing that he liked to use to bean Lee from time to time.

Naruto is silent the entire way home, though his face is always turned away from me, so I can't see his face and he can't see mine.

--

I think I have died. No, if I'd died I wouldn't be standing here drowning in Kankuro's cooking aroma. No, not Kankuro being cooked, Kankuro _cooking_.

If Temari's cooking is that of an elephant on drugs, Kankuro's cooking is that of an elephant on drugs trying to have sex with a monkey. He _stank_. No, he was _worse_ then just stinking. He was _devastating_.

At least with Temari, you always had a vague impression _what_ she wanted to cook was. With Kankuro, everything looked like a block of charcoal. Seriously. Even his soups.

"Gaara!" My evil older brother snaps as I lie practically dead on the couch, "Come here!" Of course, when I don't move, he just eyes me and leaves me alone. Advantage of being a tried-and-released serial killer. Suddenly a sudden thought flickers through my memory and I sit up. Kankuro, who is now poking another one of his block-of-charcoal masterpieces, looks up. "You going to help me?"

"No."

"Hn."

I crawl into my room and kick open the closet door. Neji had helped me reorganize my wardrobe and sneak back all the clothes he had 'borrowed' from Temari and Kankuro (he had 'borrowed' things from Temari and had practically punched Kankuro over the head before getting even a _jacket_ off of him), which I was eternally grateful for as now I can actually _find_ items in the damn thing.

After a few minutes of rummaging around, I finally remove a mothball-smelling duffel bag from underneath a pile of newer ones. Dusting it off, I carry it triumphantly into the living room and resume my spot on the couch. Kankuro cranes his neck to see what I was holding.

"Oy… what's that?"

"Bunny."

"…?"

I sit there holding the bag for an hour straight. I know it was an hour straight because the TV was on and had been blaring out various little kid cartoons twice before I stood up and walked into the kitchen.

I immediately wished I hadn't.

"Taste-test this for me."

"No way in hell." I answer and duck down when Kankuro-spatula flings towards my face. "Taste-test your own food."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to call Neji." He gives me a stare before resuming his charcoal-making.

Picking up the cheap receiver, I quickly dialed Neji's number and blankly glare at my brother, who was promptly ignoring me. I wait for my other friend to pick up, and right when I want to hang up a voice comes warbling through, "H-hello--?"

"Hey, is Neji there?"

"N-Neji niisan? N-no… H-he and Lee h-have a p-project due t-tomorrow so th-they went o-out…"

My brow shoots up in mock surprise. Neji and Lee went out to work on a project? Yeah _right_.

"Ok, thanks. Tell him he has to frickin' call me back the time he comes home, alright? Bye."

"U-uh… no problem…?"

I hang up the phone and Kankuro says, "Why don't you call that frickin' Nara boy and ask how Temari's doing?"

I ignore him and stroll to my room, duffle bag still in hand.

Sitting on my bed, I slowly unzip the bag and pull out a well-worn stuffed doll from its pockets. It was a dark chocolate brown teddy bear, hair soft with short polyester hairs and smelt of old-age. It had been the bag for a very long time.

"Bunny," I say to it, as if I was five again, "Do you think I'm a coward?"

It doesn't say anything, of course, but something had sparked. I remember how I used to talk to it all the time and it'd always answer with a smile on its face, until Shukaku killed him and took over. Now, I am imagining it sitting next to me. _What do you think a coward is?_

I consider carefully.

"Someone… who runs away. Abandons his friends. Turns around and saves his own hide when other around him is being destroyed."

_Is that you_?

"Well… no…"

_Then you're not a coward._

"What am I? A frickin' bastard who doesn't mind cutting people's head off but pisses his pants when it comes to confessing his love?"

_Gaara_, Bunny says softly, _You're not like that anymore. You were, but that is not he current you._

I narrow my eyes as I pick up the worn teddy bear. His name was Bunny because when Temari first gave it to me I still couldn't tell the difference between rabbits and bears and had ended up calling it 'Bunny' all day long until Kankuro told me it was a bear. But, nevertheless, the name stuck.

"Then… what am I? Am I… disappearing?"

_I don't know. What do you think?_

I sit on the bed for so long I don't realize I had fallen asleep until I can feel Kankuro roughly shaking my shoulder. "Gaara, get up, we're going out."

Blinking tears of sleepiness out of my eyes, I yawn and look over. It took me a few seconds, but I immediately jolted forward when I realized what was wrong.

Bunny was gone.

--

"Yo."

"Hey."

Hatake-san's manning the counter today, one hand propping his head up and the other holding a well-worn orange Make-Out Paradise Novel which he had been so engrossed in before I slipped into the store. I look around for Anko. "Where's she?"

"Out," The musical prodigy replies, turning another page of his perverted book and staring at the wonderful images that come with the thing, "She's been acting strange all week, you know?" I nod and check the clock off-handedly.

It was five minutes 'till my next lesson with a little kid named Udon or something. All I remember was him sneezing snot all over the company guitar and me frantically trying to wipe the disgusting mucus stuff from the shiny varnish. Of course, compared to Naruto trying to tutor that brat, Konohamaru, _I_ had it easy.

"Gaara," I look up from my thinking and see Hatake-san fish some keys out of his jean-pocket and he throws them at me. Effortlessly catching them, I look at them, puzzled. "Give those to Iruka-chan, ok? And tell him not to kill me."

He was, of course, referring to my psychiatrist session with Umino-san after tutoring. It got extremely annoying when your boss and your psychiatrist know, less _date_, each other. Sighing, I head into the backroom to start my lessons with a certain little twelve-year old boy who couldn't tell an arm from the e-string, apparently.

"S-sorry," He sniffs, though the steady stream of mucus is still running down his lips, "B-but what's this again?"

I feel like taking guitar and whamming him over the head. This was _so_ not my day.

After showing him that if you strum these chords together you'd get a noise that would at least be _easy_ on the ear, I bid him farewell, pack up my stuff and look at the clock in the shop room. Hatake-sensei is still reading the paradise-thing, and I roll my eyes. Usually I would work for three sessions straight, but Hatake-sensei was kind enough to let me off for my next two lessons and teach my kids himself (he'll probably scare the heck out of them, but they pretty much deserve it) while I went off to the psychiatrist.

Umino-san was actually waiting for me in the lobby this time, reading some technological book that made no sense to me whatsoever. He looks up the minute I open the door, however, and smiles. Before he can say anything I throw him Hatake-san's keys, "From your _boyfriend_." He blushes crimson and hastily stuffs the things into his back pocket. Obviously, patients were _not_ supposed to know of their psychiatrist's love life.

He coughs, "Well, Gaara, my room is actually being refurnished so we have to use the Dr. Hayate's room upstairs. Follow me."

I didn't even know he _had_ an upstairs.

The room up above was much neater and new-looking, white walls gleaming evilly like those found in hospitals and schools (both of which I loathe with a passion), and, in response, I sort of hunch up into myself as we passed door after door of gray doors. Umino-san's humming as he finally stops before a door that looks exactly the same as any other door and opens it. "Ok, ok, come in!"

I creep in along with him and find the whole room furnished. Actually, it was like stepping into an apartment or something, complete with sofa, TV, kitchen, and a black-haired guy crouching in the corner. I stare. He stares back.

"Don't mind me," The man says, using a hand to shoo me away, "I'm just the innocent bystander guy that doesn't say a word. Go on, go on." He crouches down again, and I notice that a dark gray comforter is draped over his shoulders and the box of tissues next to him. He catches me staring at him again, and, in defiance, he sneezes.

"Achoo!" He takes a tissue from the tissue box and gingerly wipes his nose, "Ah—I hate it when I catch a cold…"

Umino-san raises an eyebrow, amused, "But aren't you always sick Hayate?" The black man huddles under his comfortable with a sketchy scowl on his face.

"That's not me being sick, I just have allergies. The only time I _really_ am sick is, like—like—li—achoo!" He blows his nose on another tissue and tosses it with perfect aim into the wastebasket ten feet away, "Excuse me." Umino-san motions for me to sit down on the sofa, but I am still eyeing the other man in concern.

"Don't worry about Hayate," Umino-san sighs, "He was kind enough to let us use his dorm for our sessions so we should be thankful we're not sitting in some park freezing our butts to death. Now, I have a game I want to play."

I raise an eyebrow, "Another game? Is it a let's-find-out-more-about-Gaara! kind of game?" Umino-san looks sort of sheepish.

"Well, yes, it is. Hey, I'm a psychiatrist, right? There's a limit between going nowhere with normal talk and getting somewhere with overused mind games, ok?" He smiles charmingly, scratching the bridge of his nose in this sort of nervous fashion that spoke wonders on what he was thinking. "The game we're going to play is Two Truths and a Lie."

I groan, flopping back into the snug folds of the couch (Hayate is still eyeing me but I didn't care), "I hate this game!"

Umino-san snorts, "Tough, now let's get moving. I go first, ok?"

It was amazing how psychiatrist-like Umino-san could get and how un-psychiatrist-like he was at the same time. Any _other_ doctor would have hastily agreed to not play the game if I hated it, because then I'd feel 'uncomfortable'. But _no,_ this man wanted to play this game and he was _going_ to play this game whether I wanted to or not, and I could see it in his eyes.

"I assume you know how to play, right?" At my nod, he clasps his hands together and says, "Well, we're going to play it Iruka-fashion."

I raise my brow, "…Iruka-fashioned?"

He nods agreeably as he motions for Hayate, who was still coughing and sneezing in his little corner, to get something from the kitchen. "Yes, Iruka-fashioned. These are the rules for Iruka-Fashioned Two Truths and a Lie. If you guess right I have to say something true about me. If you guess wrong then…" He looks at the kitchen door and I slowly turn around and do the same.

Hayate has come back from the kitchen. In one hand is a tower of miniature plastic cups the size of my thumb. In the other is a large bottle of sake.

I widen my eyes briefly, before narrowing them. "I have to drink? You _do _know I am underage, right?"

He nods again, and smiles. "Normally I wouldn't really do something like this but Kakashi spawned the idea during… one night… and I thought it'd be interesting." He winks and I inwardly shiver, "Get you to loosen up more."

I have never drank in my life. Never. One of the earliest memories of my father I possess is that he liked to drink, and he liked to drink a _lot_. As I had grown older, I found I hated my father more and more, and vowed, at some point in my childhood, to never become like him. Because he smoked, I didn't smoke. Because he gambled, I didn't gamble. Because he drank, I didn't drink. Kankuro told me was a pushover and actually tricked me in drinking a cupful of spiked punch once before I realized that Kankuro had two faces and Kankuro having two faces is _weird._

Umino-san popped open the cap to the bottle of sake and is carefully pouring the liquid into the miniature-cups. "As I said before, I'll start first. Here it is: I grew up in Konoha. I play the violin. I have two dogs which I love very much."

"Uh…" I furrow my brow. One of the main reasons I hate this game is because I'm not good at guessing. Which means this game just may cause me to become drunk very, very fast. "You… don't play the violin?" He's shaking his head and I groan.

"Wrong. I do play the violin. That's how I met up with Kakashi," He sort of giggles and I flashback to images of fan girls squealing in the driveway. Not that Umino-san was _anything_ like a fan girl; it was just the way he giggled. "It was some sort of stupid concert I hadn't wanted to go to in the first place, and I crashed into him on the way out the door. He dropped his clarinet and I dropped my violin and we both ended up paying each other for damages." He chuckles in a more manly fashion, making up for his giggle earlier, "I _did_ grow up in Konoha, however—born and raised here and never really left the city except for vacation-type purposes and all that. The lie was that I had two dogs I love very much."

"You don't have two dogs that you love very much?" I ask, and Hayate's eyes flicker from Umino-san to me.

"Well," Umino-san grins, "I don't have any dogs at all, but Kakashi owns more then six and I love each and every one of them with all my heart, but not as much as I love their owner." I stare at him and am hit by a wave of disgust and jealousy at the same time. Disgust that someone can be so in love, but jealous because of that love. Must be nice to really know that someone cares.

He motions for me to take the cup, "Iruka-fashion says you must drink! Drink, young one, drink!"

"Ok," I mutter as I down the cup of burning liquid down my throat and cough, "Now you sound like Maito-sensei." He grins sheepishly and, out of habit, scratches the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I hang around with him and Kakashi a lot, and I guess they really _are_ affecting my sense of judgment, eh? Anyways, it's your turn."

I don't feel very well. That one thumb-sized cup of sake has made me so dizzy already. I shake off the feeling of impending doom in the form of massive hangover and embarrassment and try to think of what to say.

As you know, I, Sabaku no Gaara, do not have a way with words.

"Um… I… have lived in Konoha for five years. I play the guitar. I have one older sibling and one younger sibling."

"You don't have an older and younger sibling." Umino-san smirks at my wincing expression. Obviously, I wasn't very good a lying, either. Hiding emotions, yes. Lying? No. "Oh, don't look like that. I admit, I sort of cheated here—I've met your older brother and sister already and as far as I know you're the youngest in your family." He smiles again, except this time kinder. Umino-san had this naturally kind smile that made you want to smile back.

Thankfully, that was just one of many other things I am immune too.

"Hey! Iruka-fashion rules! Tell me another truth about yourself!"

"Um… I have an older brother and sister?"

Umino-san raises a book as if to smack me on the head, but he reconsiders. Good thing too, otherwise I'd have broken his neck, good psychiatrist or no. "Doesn't count. Another _unique_ fact."

I have the urge to scratch the back of my head like Naruto but I resist. "Fine… I was raised by a man named Baki, ok?" He nods and accepts this answer wordlessly.

Twirling the sake bottle, he says, "I have always been gay. I like to drink red wine more then I like to drink white wine. Rap annoys me."

This time, I've got him. "You weren't always gay."

He raises an eyebrow amusingly, "Very good. How do you know?"

"You said you were bisexual last time we met."

"Oh, I did, did I?" He scratches the bridge of his nose again, laughing. "Ok, ok, Iruka-fashion! Another fact about me is that my favorite flower is the marigold."

Hayate is having a coughing fit right now, and Umino-san looks at the man, concerned. "Hayate—"

The other man waves him off, sneezing into another tissue, "I'm fine, I'm fine! Ignore me! I am _not_ here!"

Umino-san looks at me and I look back and he says, "It's your turn."

"I think I got this down. I take art and drama in school. I hate facial hair. My brother Kankuro majors in photography."

I think I'm getting better at this.

Umino-san seems more amused then confused as he considers his options. "Ok, this one's hard… I think… you don't hate facial hair?"

I let the dangerously murderous expression settle on my face as I show him my canines. "I _hate_ facial hair. I take Art and Drama. Kankuro hasn't chosen a major yet." I find it easier to keep my sentences succinct. Umino-san, however, in standard psychiatrist language, does not approve.

"Maybe if I guess wrong," he mentions as he slowly sips away at his cup of sake, "You should try to include more detail with each fact. The point of the whole game is to get to know each other, you know?" I just shrug and stare at him blankly.

"When I was in elementary school I was a part of a gang. I was elected Student Council President in sophomore year, high school, and I go out to tennis every Tuesday." I notice, fuzzily, that Umino-san is making more and more of his facts specific. Is that's how he wants to play it?

"Uh… the tennis thing."

"No. Take a drink." I groan. I was still off-balance over the first cup. How many times will it be before I'm singing the Barney song drooling all over the floor? Sipping down a second cough, a wheeze into my sleeve.

"Ok… I have two best friends. I own a red motorcycle. I've never been to prison."

"You've… been to prison before?"

"I have never been to prison, though I've been threatened by it. I own a red motorcycle that Baki gave Kankuro when he turned sixteen, which Kankuro gave to me. I have three best friends, not two."

Umino-san sees an opening. "Who are your best friends?"

"Neji is the first friend I decided to make on my own. We're really close because of that. Naruto is one of those people that forces themselves on others, so it took me much longer to get used to him then Neji. Sasuke came with Naruto but we still get along fine. We've all known each other since high school, but I met them all in junior high."

Was it me or was that one of the longest paragraphs I have spoken _ever_?

Umino-san nods and goes into another bout of truth-and-lie telling.

I don't know how long we played. I just knew that after a while Hayate started making wheezing noises on the floor, and just when I thought he was about to have an asthma attack I realize that the wheezing noises were actually snores. The poor man had fallen asleep.

I think after that Umino-san, who wasn't red at all no matter how many times he drank, had decided to tone down the game a bit. I have a very vague recollection of what happened next, because by then I'd had ten cups and was giggling on the couch. He had gently scooped up the sick doctor from his corner and carried him to his bedroom, cleaned up the couch and coffee area and helped me out the room.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" He asks, concerned as I giggle into his shoulder.

"N-no… 'ma fine…" I murmur sleepily as I leaned heavily on his support, "M-meh, Umino-sh-shan…" He looks at me quizzically. "H-have you ever been in lurve before b-bud doo afrwaid of rejection to confesh?"

"Of course," He answers as he carefully helps me down the stairs, "I think everyone has."

I'm off in my own little drunken ramble now, "Yeshderday I wend wid my crush to a concert, and I wash gonna kish him but I chickened out in de end… I don't know whad to shay to him now…"

Umino-san is looking at me with a half-worried, half-I-went-through-this-stage-once, and coughs. "Well, Gaara, if he wanted to be kissed then that's a good sign that he likes you, right? Try inviting him on another date, and this time don't be afraid."

I can feel my consciousness sapping away as my eyes start to flutter closed. "Dad's… Dad's a good idea…"

I don't know what happened next except through the words of Kankuro, who claims that Umino-san later called him to pick me up in our Chevy and to drive us home.

I really don't remember anything at all—most of the Two Truths and a Lie is just a blur, what I said during when I was drunk is probably erased due to mortification, and I _think_ the secretary was looking at me funny as I was drunkenly being held up down the stairs.

The only thing I remember is asking Kankuro to stop the car, as I roll down window, and heaving everything I had eaten that morning onto some innocent looking plants that _really_ didn't deserve to have vomit rained down upon them.

But, hey, tough luck, right?

--


	10. Name: Rainbows Painted Crimson

_The room was dark and cold, the shadows crawling over my hands as I look down upon a blood-ridden form. _

_I am perplexed._

_What had happened?_

_There is nothing but pools of crimson blood trickling from one to the other on the floor of the room, the walls smeared with the liquid until there are rainbows glinting in the light. Temari is screaming so loud my ears ring, and the smell is horrible. Absolutely horrible. _

_The form beneath me is smiling, smiling, and she's whispering something, but I can't hear her. I feel desperation bubble up as I lean against her form, trying to hear her last words, aching to hear it but I can't, I can't, there's something clogging my ears, my nose, my heart--_

_"Gaara," Temari was still screaming as the form stops moving. I pay no attention, just let the thought scream through my mind: _No words, last words, can't hear the last words, none, no, killed them all, those words, those--

_I am scared. Why was the room covered in blood? Whomever had done it was still here. I scramble around, looking for a safe place to hide, but its hard to move since my clothes are caked in blood and soiled with something else, piss, maybe, but I try to move and hide but my body won't let me. My body is still. My body is calm. My body is totally relaxed as it stands there, staring at the woman who I had called 'Mother'. My body feels laughter bubbling up from inside it._

_I look down, shakily._

_My body is holding a butcher knife._

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

I knew I was first 'in love' with Uzamaki Naruto when I was hanging by my foot, dangling upside down above the quarry right across from the school.

Now, how did I get up there?

During sophomore year of high school, Temari had finally pushed and prodded me into joining the School Aikido team in hope of me 'using my abilities to the best' and getting our team to win in the annual aikido-match-thing for the first time ever or something along those lines. Being that I dislike martial arts and I absolutely _hated_ Sakura, who was also on the team, this was not a happy thing for me. _Definitely_ not a happy thing.

"Yosh!" Maito-sensei, who was, unfortunately, the leader of the team, had cried out the first day the team adjourned, "First we will stretch! Stretch, young blossoms, stretch, and let your strength bubble up from within so you can then use it to prevail in the quest for youth!" I glared at him and looked around to see how everyone else was 'stretching'.

Sasuke, who had also been pushed to join, was all the way on the opposite side of the room trying very hard to ignore Sakura, who was 'stretching' her triceps by innocently lifting her arm upright and letting her breasts bounce around two inches away from his face.

Shikamaru, who was doing circles with his arms, forward and backward, forward and backward, was stretching besides my sister, who was enthusiastically doing jumping jacks. Thankfully, she was wearing a bra underneath her gi, unlike _somebody_ we all know.

There were some more people I vaguely recognized, all doing various splits and other athletic names I've obviously forgotten, including Dog-boy and his Field-Studies Partner, Weird-dude-who-plays-with-bugs, Chouji (It's very hard to forget a name belonging to someone who is fat but don't tell him I said that) who was bouncing up and down, his fat a second behind him, and the Ice Cream Shoppe Waitress, Ten Squared. Of course, I don't know her real name, but that's what Neji calls her when he's in a good mood, so…

"Stretch harder!" Maito-sensei belted out, causing everybody to quickly increase their stretching pace, "Do not be afraid of pain! Pain is just a minor hurdle in the long path of everlasting peace! You are all so youthful it should not be hard to blossom into a well-grown lotus flower dancing in the night! Stretch! Stretch! Streeeeeetch!" I gritted my teeth and copied Temari, doing jumping jacks.

What the _heck_? How did Temari persuade me to come here again?

Oh, I remember. She threatened to steal Kiss Oil from me if I didn't come. Ha.

"SABAKU!"

"Yes!" Temari and I shouted at the same time in surprise, and then looked at each other blankly. Temari had actually graduated from Konoha High a year ago, but she still comes by every meeting without fail to 'encourage and help' her underclassmen. Of course, that meant she wasn't allowed to compete the in competitions, which _then_ meant she just _had_ to drag me over here to take her place. And she couldn't drag _Kankuro_ to come, because he's too 'weak'. So that leaves me. Go me.

"MY!" Maito-sensei's bulging face appears an inch away from my own and I widen my eyes in mock-surprise, "So _you_ are our dear Temari's younger brother? I am Maito Gai, your new aikido teacher! Did you know your beautiful flower of a sister was the team's best member? You don't look all that much alike but you both have such beautiful green gems as irises! And such a youthful face! And such lovely hair!" Temari was making frantic 'don't touch his hair' motions behind me as Maito-sensei reaches for my hair. My expression quickly darkened and all the other students took a step back from my impending doom.

"Maito-sensei!" Temari finally flung herself on top of the elder man in desperation and he was propelled far, far, away from my reach (pity, I _wanted_ to reach up and strangle him) with her momentum, "Why don't we get on with class, neh? Neh? Neh?" She giggled nervously, shooting me a look that said kill-someone-and-someone's-guitar-is-going-get-hurt and I returned her look with one that responded touch-my-guitar-and-you-die-no-exceptions. The tension broke and the class let out a sigh of relief.

"ALRIGHT!" Maito-sensei cried out, jumping up from his just-seconds-before butt-in-the-air sprawl without any shame at all, "Let's get started with rolls!"

I won't go into what kind of things we did in class except for getting hit in the groin twice but afterward I ended up back in the men's locker room, back covered with bruises.

"If you had tucked your arm in when you hit the ground," Shikamaru was saying, "then you wouldn't have gotten those bruises on your shoulders." I growled deep in my throat as I roughly untied the knot holding my gi together and threw the belt onto the ground.

"Whatever."

All the boys changed in the locker room all at once and I was half grossed-out at the overpowering smell of sweaty testosterone in the air. Sasuke, who was the first one in, quickly removed his gi, threw on his black tee and navy blazer and fled the room as quickly as he came. For me, though, it wasn't that easy.

"Whoa, Gaara," A random senior boy said to me, bent down looking at my back, "You really got beat up, eh? Ha, all the beginners are like that at first, you'll get better." I glared at him, but the critique didn't stop there.

"Maito-sensei is really weird, but if you listen to him you'll be an awesome aikido follower," Another boy said to me, this time probably a junior, "Lee-san actually took this course last year, but then dropped out in favor of judo, which is _also_ lead by Maito-sensei…" I threw a look at Shikamaru, who gave me a sort of pitying glance and slipped away as quietly as Sasuke. Damn. Why was it always _me_ that drew all the attention?

Of course, there _was_ the huge fact that neither Sasuke nor Shikamaru suffered any color-distorting injuries and thus, looked perfectly fine, while I was just short of resembling a messed up blueberry. Ha.

"—but that's so weird, why is your hair perfectly fine? It's not sweaty or anything…" A boy reached out and, fatally, brushed one of many locks of crimson hair. My eyes flashed.

Before anyone knew it the boy was screaming on the floor, a sickening crack left of his forehead spilling blood onto the floor and bench. I looked at my hand in a sort of dim horror, as if some part of me was still horrified that I had spilt blood while the rest of me filtered him out. The other boys were shouting, and, eventually, split into two groups. One immediately scattered to take care of the injured boy, some going to fetch a teacher and the other trying to calm him down. The second group, then, went after me.

"What the frick' is your problem?" A particularly muscular senior takes me by the shirt and slams me against the locker wall. I can taste blood in my mouth, but I don't really care. My back is on fire, first from the bruises and now this damn senior connecting my bruises with a metal wall of locks and bars. It _hurt_.

"What should we do?" A skinny freshman whispered from behind a mass of upper classmen, "Should we take him to the principal?"

There were a few murmurings from behind until the senior who had me in his grip said, defiantly, "Nah, what would the principal to do him anyway? Suspend him? I say we take the matter in our _own_ hands."

Which, in the end, meant hanging me on a tree branch by a foot tied down with super-heavy duct tape over fifteen feet of dark quarry water.

"Hope you regret what you've done, loser!"

"You think he'd die? If he falls…"

"He almost killed Shiro! He deserves it!"

"Well…"

The conversation fades as they walk away, leaving me sort of fluttering in the wind, blood rushing to my head as, like I said before, I was upside-down.

'Ok', I think to myself as I let the wind let me dangle, 'What should I do?' There are several things that popped into my head.

One, get my cell phone out and call Temari to save me. But then, not only would my manly pride be injured, she'd probably just leave me hanging for life. Plus, my cell phone was still in my locker room as I hadn't had a chance to get my stuff before they dragged me out here.

Two, scream as loud as I could and hope for someone to hear me. However, I'd be seen as a wuss. Sabaku no Gaara is _not_ a wuss. Therefore, option two is out.

Three, do a movie-quality sort-of flip and manage to untie the duct tape around my leg. This would then lead me to fall into the quarry, however, and I couldn't do a movie-quality flip anyways, no matter _how_ many people I killed. I mean, you really didn't have to be all that strong to kill someone. It's _easier _to snuff out a life then to lift twenty pounds (which I _can_ do by the way. I didn't say I wasn't strong).

I think my thought-process started to wander after ten minutes of dangling. It may have to do with boredom; maybe to the fact my face was turning an unsettling shade of red. I wonder how long I had to be hanging for me to die of too much blood in the brain? If I was still truly murderous I would have considered this a new killing technique. But then, I wasn't, so I let my thoughts ponder over other more trivial things.

Did Kankuro remember to do the laundry this week? If he hadn't I'd be forced to wear my tanks to school, then. And _no one_ wanted to look at a skinny almost muscle-less sophomore's sticks for arms.

What about Sasuke? He'd left before the whole let's-hang-Gaara-in-a-tree thing came to being. Will he hear of it? 'Probably not,' I think dryly as another gust of wind blows me like a feather, 'Probably sitting in his room-sized sofa drinking hot cocoa and talking to Naruto on the phone.'

Sometimes I envied the two's relationship. Sasuke, his cold demeanor and aloof attitude really pissed me off sometimes, especially how he glared at me when I so much as _touch_ Naruto. Naruto, happy and cheerful smile lighting up the whole room, laughter as pure as the color white. Bad metaphor, I know, but I can't think straight with all this blood in my brain.

Suddenly I was hit with a longing for Naruto to be here. I have no idea where the idea had sprouted from, and I usually didn't long for company, so I was utterly confused at myself. The feeling wouldn't dissipate, whoever, causing me to split into two people again. I had a habit of giving different sides of me personalities and figures.

There was prideful-Gaara, who couldn't stand having anything ruin his reputation for his lack of emotion. Nice-Gaara, who felt sympathy for those people bullied out in the halls or had their hair pulled every day, and urged my body to go help them. Realism-Gaara, who believed that you couldn't help anything that went along— it was all pointless. The world moved on and you were just a speck, and little dust mite that really didn't matter. Shukaku-Gaara, who had been put to sleep temporarily but still threatened to resurface at times. And, finally, feeling-Gaara, the part of me that felt everything I should feel—anger, sadness, hatred, happiness, longing, love…

Love?

My eyes widened in horror at what I had just thought. After a few years of denial and hatred towards my siblings, I admitted, grudgingly, that I didn't _really_ want to kill either of them. That was, as Baki _insisted_, 'love'. And, according to Temari's bouts of explaining how her newest romance novel was worthy enough to be read, love was pure, kind, and was defined as 'the feeling to sacrifice anything and everything for that one special person'. Of course, I felt nothing of that sort towards neither Kankuro nor Temari, but then, Baki said that was a different kind of love.

There are different kinds of love?

As I hung helplessly, I checked off several things on my mental list of Naruto. What was it I exactly felt about him? Wanting him to be near me at all times? Listening to his laugh in the hallways and feeling enlightened by his smile? Feeling the sense of understanding as Naruto listens to what's happening in my life? Willing to give up even my motorbike for his company? What was it? This feeling?

Love?

My expression froze.

Then, at that exact moment, the duct tape holding my foot onto the branch snapped, and I was plunged into a basin of chilly autumn water.

_Damn_, I thought as I floundered, _Temari'll kill me for soiling another pair of pants!_

--

When I see Neji again, he smiles at me. I stare. He smiles wider. I stare harder. His eyebrow starts to twitch and his smile turns scary.

"What are you staring at?"

I don't know if I've said it before, but I will say it again. Neji. Almost. Never. Yells. _Never._ Being raised as one of the descendants of the original founders of Hyuuga Jewelers, he is an extremely magnanimous young man who seemed to accept everything presented to him and reject anything presented to him as well. While talking to him you make a slip of tongue, he'd tilt his head sideways and glare you down so hard until you feel like you were going to set on fire and turn to ash or something. He's done it to me, except I glared back and turned _him_ to ash.

Ha.

So it was typical for him to turn his pleasant face to one of annoyed anger in a matter of milliseconds, of course. "You…" I say, flatly, "…are smiling."

His elegantly curved brow furrows in a sort of irritated confusion, "Is that a crime?"

I stare at him again. We are at the beautiful park situated between Temari's Aikido class and Papa Gino's, _the_ best pizza restaurant ever (in my opinion, anyways), me squatting down between two roughened tree trunks and him, crossing his arms and towering above me in an extremely superior way. Not like I cared about 'superiority' and 'inferiority' and all that crap: in my opinion, whoever could beat the heck out of anyone either physically or mentally is superior, and whoever ran away at everything and never fought back was inferior. Everyone else was just somewhere in-between.

"No… but why were you smiling like that?" I don't wait for him to answer before adding, "You smile a lot, but you never smiled like _that_ before… like you just came back from a moment of pure bliss."

"My," My best friend says mockingly, "I didn't even know you _knew_ the word 'bliss'." I narrow my eyes and chuck my water bottle at his head. Swiftly catching the plastic thing without breaking eye contact, he slowly removes the cap, lifts his head up, and drinks all my water.

"Neji…" If looks can kill, all trees in a twenty mile radius would be wilting because of my enormous dark fury, which is unbound. Ok, unbound except for when Naruto is concerned, which is a lot. "That was… _my_ water…"

"Too bad," He replies coolly, pocketing the empty bottle into his giant tote-bag-thing (it's like a tote bag attached to his waist… a _huge_ tote bag…) and folding his arms, "Punishment for ruining my good mood."

"What exactly were you so happy about anyways?"

He shrugs casually, leaning down and sitting down next to me. "Well, nothing… except for the fact I won't be free on Saturday night."

I look at him incredulously. "…and?"

He gives me a quick smile and I stare at him again. He notices my stare and raises a hand for me to stop _looking_ at him that way. "'Cause I'm going to the movies!"

I stare at him.

He stops smiling, turns around, and rummages through his tote bag. Finally remerging with a large club-like thing in tow, he growls, "If you stare at me like that again I'll blow you away to kingdom come, alright? Good? Nod your head. _Good boy_."

I don't usually let myself be played around my fellow band members, but I was still trying to get my mind to comprehend 'going to the movies'.

"…" I open my mouth, "…date?"

His eyebrow twitches, "_Yes_, Gaara, I am going on a date. Are you in such shock that I, _Hyuuga Neji_, am lowering myself to your standard and going on a _date_?" I don't say anything, but I tilt my head to get a better look at him. Why the _heck_ was I born short?

"No, it's fine… congratulations." He stares at me.

"Why are we acting like it's a funeral or something? Whatever! We're going to the Ice Cream Shoppe to eat ice cream, got that?" Before I can widen my eyes in shock at Neji yelling for once, he grabs my hand and pulls me uphill. As I struggle to get out of the senior's insanely sharp grip (his fingernails are digging into my skin…) I dimly wonder what Temari would say if she came home from the Nara's today and saw grass stains all over my white pants. Probably burst out crying and run over to the Nara's again.

"My, Neji!" The same two-bun girl who has served us every week smiles at me charmingly then turns back to her so-called boyfriend, "What are you doing here on a Monday? Don't you usually only come Wednesdays?" Neji, who is still in bliss from being invited to go on a date, allows a small, cheerful grin to cross his face.

"Well, I felt like eating ice cream today and where better then to come to then here? This shop _does_ sell the best ice cream, after all." Two-bun girl just laughs behind her hand, then takes out her clipboard.

"Ok, boys, what would you like to eat?"

"Caramel Turtle Sundae," Pops out of my mouth before my brain catches up.

"Vanilla Malt." Neji answers her curtly and she nods, tucking away her clipboard into her breast pocket and skipping behind the counter to inform the ever-so-generous cook that we had arrived and we wanted ice cream _right now_.

We stare out the window in a comfortable silence for a while, Neji with his chin resting in the palm of his hand, hair completely pulled back in the traditional Japanese style he always wore at his house. I tried to guess what I looked like from his point of view. A too-skinny boy dressed in a sweatshirt two sizes too big for him, arms crossed with his sleeves pulled up to his elbows. Pale complexion making him look like a shallow ghost, burning red hair uncombed and altogether hard to look at. A bored, rather angry expression sketched across his face as he glares holes into the nearby birds, which stop singing immediately and drop dead onto the grass.

Temari once said I looked constipated when I wasn't glaring, and ended up running for her life when I finally grabbed the butcher knife from Kankuro and chased her. Did I look constipated to Neji? If I did, he better not tell me or I'll chase him with a butcher knife too.

"Hey," Neji breaks the silence, letting his hand fall to the table as he lifts his chin and turns to face me, "How'd your date go?" I stare at him with a murderous glint in my eye and he raises a slender eyebrow. "Let me guess—you didn't get a kiss?"

My eyes flicker back to the birds out the window, totally avoiding Neji's glance. I mumble, "I didn't say that."

"You didn't! That's why you were so morose this morning!"

I give him _the dirty look_ and lean forward, putting my weight on the table. "It's really something I'm probably going to have to deal with myself, so can you please back off?" He holds up his hands with a quirky smirk on his face, then sets them down again as his expression quickly morphs into one of quiet concern.

"But… why didn't he kiss you? Or," he quickly corrects himself, "Why didn't you kiss him?" I inwardly squirm at Neji's thoughtful, intellectual gaze. My outward appearance still had its mask of cold demeanor, however, which was relieving as I had a lot of things to worry about currently without the loss of reputation as well.

"Um…" I ran a hand through my hair as I continued to avoid his gaze, "Well… we were about to kiss… and…" I struggled to find the correct words. Silence may be cool, but it definitely didn't increase one's vocabulary, "…we were… interrupted… so we pulled away and… ended in silence."

He stares at me for a second as I try to recover my composure without making it obvious that I was doing so. He holds up a finger and, slowly, says, "You were _about_ to go smooch?"

I nod, feeling my brow tick at the word 'smooch'. Neji was sophisticated. Why was he using such an… unsophisticated word? Ok, so my vocabulary really sucked, but that really doesn't matter.

"And who made the first move?"

I point to myself and he continues.

"Did he back away when you leaned towards him?"

My expression is blank as I shake head no.

"So he wasn't backing away and he was accepting the kiss when you two were interrupted?"

My slow-pace brain finally catches up to Neji's reasoning and I can feel a light blush creep over my face as fast as the plague. "S-so you're saying he l-likes…?"

Neji smirks crookedly again and his expression has now almost completely lightened up. "Maybe… I'm just saying you're not completely hopeless. If you persuade him to drop Sasuke…" We stare at each other for a while, then turn, in unison to look outside, back at the stocks of trees poking out from beneath the shaft-thing the store had set up to give shade to its dine-out customers.

"Ice cream!" Ten Squared shouts out as she slams a bowl of Caramel Turtle Sundae and a cup full of vanilla malt, causing both Neji and I to flinch. "Okey-dokey, if there's anything else you boys want just ring me ok?" She winks at Neji, who gives her a tight-lipped smile back, then turns her back on us and skips over to another customer all the way on the other side of the store. Neji sips quietly at his malt while I take a generous spoonful of gooey, still hot caramel sauce and rich vanilla ice cream crammed with little turtle-shaped chocolates (if Neji cared for real ice creams instead of malts he'd probably love eating this just because of the turtles) and place it delicately into my mouth.

Before I had come to Konoha, I never had an interest in anything besides blood. Toys? Maybe a little, but then I never used them anyways so they don't count. Going to the carnival? Nice place to kill people, don't you think? Eating cotton candy? Stuff it down a guy's throat until he bubbles up and dies is better. Ice cream? What the heck was that? I already explained to you my first encounter with ice cream, when I was fourteen. And I've never gone a week since without eating ice cream in one way, shape or form. _Never_.

Amazing for a skinny guy like me (skinny until I go berserk and think I'm fat like Chouji).

I stare at Neji hard as I eat my ice cream, and a question that had been sprouting at the edge of my mind comes into being. I put down my spoon and lean over, looking at him questionably. "Neji…"

"Mm?" He's concentrating on trying to slurp up a huge wad of vanilla-goo but looking cool at the same time. "What?"

"When do you know you want to have sex?"

He literally spits vanilla malt all over my face. Coughing, he stutters something incomprehensible before grabbing the nearest napkin holder, yanking out as many little paper-things as you could get and trying to clean his and my face at the same time. "S-sorry, you j-just surprised me—hold still!"

After Ten Squared went crazy with the whole get-some-soap-and-scrub-Gaara's-face-so-hard-his-eye-bags-fall-off, the table and our faces are completely clean and Neji has finally regained his composure. "Well… I'm not even going to ask _why_ you want to know… well…" His face turns a dark shade of pink as he looks away from me in a curt noble fashion that makes me want to smack him. How can he look so embarrassed and so stiff at the same time?

"Ok, for a man there are several ways to know. You can't help thinking about the _other person_ naked and… doing stuff. Get my drift? And also when you think about _such things_ you get…" He coughs here again and he turns away from me, "An… erection. There? Happy?"

Sort of. Neji is the only person I know who says 'erection' instead of 'hard-on'. One of the other quirks from his intellectual side.

I stare at him blankly. "So… how do you know whose top or bottom?"

I swear, the senior looks absolutely _horrified_ at the hidden meaning behind my words. "Well… when you start thinking this stuff, it all depends on _how_ you think it. If you're thinking the… other person… is underneath you, then you know you want to top, w-while if you imagine the other person… dominating you, then you know you want bottom. But the real decision comes when the two of you…" Neji is so flustered he keeps pulling at his charm necklace and glaring at the innocent wallpaper, "Try stuff… out…" He coughs and I decide to stop torturing him.

"Well I guess that _sort of _answers my question…" I look down at the polished table and stare at my reflection glaring back at me, "but what does it mean when you want all this stuff? Love?"

"Not necessarily. Look at Sasuke and Naruto for example. It's called lust. Love encompasses lust inside it, while lust doesn't need love to exist."

I look even blanker. "Math?"

He sighs, "Yes, Gaara, like in math. A square is a rectangle but a rectangle is not always a square. Moving on. Do you feel like that towards Naruto? Is that why you're asking me this?"

"No…" I sit back and nibble on several turtles I picked up from my ice cream rampage, "It's my lack of desire that's odd…"

"Odd?"

"Never mind, now how's it going with Lee?"

Neji eyes widen and he stammers with a completely straight face, "W-what about Lee…?"

--

At school a couple of boys corner me at the turn of the hallway, right where there's a mountain of lockers strewn everywhere, so they corner me along with a bunch of other people who just really want to get their stuff and leave.

"Hey, faggot," One growls, swaggering towards me with a sneer half-curved onto his face, "Where do you think you're going?" People start whispering and hurrying away, obviously not wanting to get caught in the upcoming doom rising from over the horizon.

I wanted to stay low profile, so I look down and mumble, "Trigonometry."

They exchange crude glances, lean over, and pluck my books from my tight hold, me glowering as I feel the tallest boy take a tight grip on my arm. One roughly pushed me against the locker wall as the others laughed as they started throwing the seventy dollar textbook against the wall and floor, crumpling up the paper and dirtying the cover.

"This is our hall, gay wad," They spit in my face, laughing, poking, prodding me, "so don't you dare set a foot in our hall aga—"

A fist comes from seemingly nowhere and a boy is propelled a good ten feet away while people scream in fright and escape into their classes. I look up into a very familiar pair of blue eyes, now cloudy with anger.

"Get the hell away from my friend you frickin' asshole!"

The other guys took a step back, obviously not used to being confronted by a five-foot six-inch blonde who looked like he was going to take the trig book in his hand and smash them all into tiny little bloody pieces. "W-who are you? His boyfriend?"

I cringe at the comment.

To others, it was basically the standard bully-comeback. To me, Naruto's answer was rather very, _very_ important. Would he deny it? Or will he say 'That's disgusting, go away'? Would he (in my wildest dreams that weren't that wild due to my lack of imagination) accept it?

"That," Naruto says very flatly as he roughly picks up my poor trashed textbook from the ground, "Is none of your business." And in one smooth move that I may be able to accomplish if I put all my effort in it, he takes me by the arm and leads me off to class with the boys gaping at us from behind.

--

"I hate you."

"I hate you too."

"Get your frickin' girlfriend out of my room."

"She still has to recover you know. We just had some mind-blowing sex."

I can feel my short-fused temper at its end already. Kankuro is sitting cross-legged in a kitchen chair _totally naked_ drinking a cup of tea. Just for the record, no one in the Sabaku family drinks coffee. We are _all_ very addicted to tea, including me, much to my embarrassment.

His face-paint had smeared off in his 'mind-blowing sex' and he was obviously _very_ satisfied. I, however, was more like _horrified._

"I don't care if you had so much sex you flew to the moon in your ecstasy. _Get her out of my room_." He shrugs as if it's no big deal and lumbers off into _my room_ to get up his girlfriend. The minute I came home and saw Kankuro at the kitchen table drinking tea with no clothes on and snores coming out of my room I knew something was up.

If he had done something like this five years ago he'd be hanging over the porch with his man-parts cut out and stapled to his face for good measure. But then, that would be pretty sick, even for me. I never went as far as to sexually harass someone before and I wasn't planning to now.

I scan the room with scrutiny, making sure there weren't any fluids or _liquids_ or any _unidentifiable substances_ lying around the flat. It wasn't that I was afraid of getting in trouble or anything, I just felt sick whenever I thought of where those _things_ came from. I mean, blood and water I can deal with (I've had a lot of that in my experience as an ex-serial killer) but stuff like semen? No way.

After I was totally confident that the whole house was properly clean and uncontaminated I closed the door to Kankuro's room because there was such a strange odor coming from the place that I was practically lying on the floor gagging before I slammed it shut. After sitting around wondering what I should do as Kankuro bid this week's girlfriend farewell, I finally decide to go clean up my bed-sheets, as that _girl_ had probably leaked something nasty onto them.

"Hey," Kankuro pops his head out from the kitchen as I drag my white blankets to the laundry room, "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up your mess," I say in a flat voice as I lean down to the washing machine's level, trying to decipher to the mass of buttons and switches jabbed right on the control panel.

From when I was little I've always watched people doing the laundry. I never did it myself. It was always either Temari or Mother, when she was still living, and then they would always keep to themselves. Of course, years of staring at Temari do the continuous routine of lifting the hefty basket, sorting them out into two piles—darks and whites—stuffing them into the machine, pressing a sequence of buttons I have memorized—bottom left button, second dial turn eighty degrees, third switch, top right button—and, altogether, starting the machine. Watching her do this has always given me this weird sense of going out there and playing around with buttons too, but then Shukaku had told me I'd blow myself up and I shouldn't try.

But since Kankuro is too busy pulling some boxers on and Temari was camping out at the Nara's for who-knows-how-long, I prepared myself for the worst.

Of course, it was only _bed sheets_, but then there was all that laundry that had piled up the week my sister has been gone, and I know I had the 'responsibility' to wash them as well. I gather them in my hands and blankly sorted them out. Black hoodie. Goes in the 'dark' pile. White socks. 'Light' pile. Black hood. 'Dark'. Beige Sweater. 'Light'. Since my family is basically just black and white minus Temari, who was gone anyways, it was pretty easy sorting them all out. Hauling the light pile into the tiny compartment called a 'washing machine' along with my soiled bed sheets, I coolly press the order of buttons Temari always does and look amazed when the thing actually _starts_.

I got it right?

I crawl back to the living room where Kankuro was brewing more tea, now dressed in his boxers and tang top. He obviously liked to wander around the house naked or half-naked _all the time_. I want to hit him, but then it'd be too much of a mess to clean up afterwards. I never really worried about things like blood and vomit and all those other good things that come with being a serial killer until Temari made me fully realize the enduring pain that goes along with _cleaning up_ said fluids. Some people questioned me before—why did I care what Temari said I should do?

I don't know. Maybe I just got tired of taking care of myself. It was kind of nice knowing that there was 'dinner' at home (if you can call what she cooks _dinner_) and that you didn't really have to make your own bed or worry about money or care about the _basic necessities_ _of life_. When Shukaku was still here he forced me to depend on myself and only myself, finding my own food, never asking help from anybody, doing all my moving and shoving myself excluding laundry because Temari obviously had _that_ down, and all those other things that said, 'Independent. Leave me alone. I can take care of myself'.

But after he went away it became easy to start depending on others. It was human nature. And the prospect of _not_ being able to depend on others (Temari threatens to stop doing blah for a week or something) was too hard to bear because once I got a taste of what it feels like to be _truly pampered_ it was hard to go back to your old lifestyle. _Really_ hard.

So I try my best to not piss Temari off too bad and she works hard to not piss _me_ off real bad and we get along fine. Much better then Kankuro and me, who usually end up solving our conflicts by kicking each other under the kitchen table instead of nicely negotiating for better rights at a 'family meeting'.

"Gaara!" Kankuro's voice bellows out from the living room, the TV volume raised to its loudest, "Someone wants you at the door!"

I groan inwardly and beat myself over the head. Whoever was visiting me had _just seen my brother in his boxers_. I pity him. Or her. But I don't know any girls that well, so it must be a 'he'. Outwardly, I sweep through the flat with a set glare on my face, giving Kankuro a glint on my eye that meant 'I'm going to kill you!' and turned to face who it was at the door.

"Who is it?" I look up and I stare.

"Hey," Itachi chirps as he shrugs off a duffel bag onto the floor, "Mind if I stay over a few days?"

I can feel my brow twitch as a single thought drifts from my innermost chambers of my brain: _holy crap where will he sleep?_

--

Author: ACK! This chapter took sooooooo long and is soooooooooo boring! ; sorry couldn't make it more interesting. Whoo-hoo! Nothing happens... Reviewers! (Hugs all) When finished with the whole fic I'll add an afterword listing all the names that helped and supported me as I wrote this . But I'm busy trying to get the next chapter up to stop and list the reviewers so... (runs and hides from rotten tomatoes and cups of water) Ah!


	11. Name: Ramen or Lo Mein?

"Hey, Naruto, is it ok if we go somewhere to eat this Friday?" A nervous glance.

"Eh--? But where will we eat?"

"Um..."

"Wah! What about Ichiraku Ramen? Please?" Puppy-eyes.

"Well…I don't like ramen... that much."

"Gaara! You said we should go somewhere to eat this Friday!" A pout.

Think fast. "Well, there's a new japanese/chinese restaurant that just opened... near Neji's place... is that alright?"

Consideration. "Yay! That sounds great! Wait, you're paying, right?"

A sigh. "_Yes,_ Naruto, I am paying."

"Yay! All you can eat ramen!"

"Naruto, be aware I have a budget--!"

"Ha! I'll reach that budget _to the max_!"

"Naruto…" A light shake of the head the curve of a smile tugging at the edge of the lips.

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

Sitting almost half-asleep on my desk at approximately seven thirty in the morning in Writing Skills has definitely made me aware of my lack of the ability to sense time. I have my iPod volume turned up to the highest it can get before starting to leak, which was pretty soft anyhow, and my head slumped down on a paper that said 'Compare and Contrast: Metaphoric Analysis!' We were supposed to be analyzing this weird book I was supposed to be reading but obviously hadn't and writing a report on said book, which I obviously didn't know about either.

I sigh as I try to move my head into a more comfortable position.

Recently, my grades have been plunging as I've forgotten various things: homework assignments, projects, discussions, reading activities, going to class, _which_ class I was supposed to be going to, if I was even _supposed_ to go to class that day (I went on a Saturday twice by accident), etc, etc… It was all due to my thought-process going something like the following.

Go to school. First, Writing. Then, Spanish. Did Kankuro do the laundry? Wait, don't I mean Temari? But then, she's gone, so… After that, Trig. After _that_, World History. I hate World History. The stupid teacher won't shut up! I hate him. Drama with Neji. Lunch. They serve bad food. Food… reminds me of Itachi… he's been stealing all our food for the past couple of days. I still need to practice for the Battle of the Bands. Naruto's going to get mad at me, and I don't want him to mad at me, though he's kind of cute when he's mad… no! What am I _thinking_? Am I turning into one of those modern day jock/emo people? Wait; is there such thing as a jock/emo person? Physics with creepy Professor Orochimaru and finally Art.

Since I tend to lose my train of thought after the first two sentences, I often lose my way, and, embarrassingly, even end up crashing into poles, walls, lockers, or doors that seem to pop out of nowhere.

Neji says I was under too much stress and thinks I need to take a day off. I say if I take a day off I'd _definitely_ pull some 'F's' this semester, and that wasn't too great of a standing on my report card. Good report cards equal Good Colleges. Wait, colleges? Crap, I forgot all about the SATS…

"Sabaku, what is your opinion on Marie's feelings towards the Professor?" I glance upwards and see the teacher towering above me. Slowly sliding up in a nonchalant manner, I blink at her sleepily. What?

"Hn?" is all I manage to say before she takes out her grade book and a red pen and marks something that was probably not good next to my name.

"I see. Alright, Haruno! What is your opinion on Marie's feelings towards the Professor…" Her voice is fading away as I let my head fall back onto the desk. I. Need. _Sleeeeeeeep_. Sure, I never really cared about sleep when Shukaku was around, but after taking a few well-deserved naps after he left I realized that being more alert _feels good_ and having slightly smaller eye-bags were more attractive. Now, I was positively _addicted_ to sleep.

But, that was beside the point. Why wasn't I getting enough sleep?

Ask Kankuro. Or Itachi. After last night, who in the _world_ could have fallen asleep under those circumstances?

After bursting dramatically into the flat at six at night, Itachi had quickly made himself home in the study room in Baki's old bed. "Don't worry," He said when I eyed him suspiciously with my rather cold green irises, "I won't stay long-- Sasuke's just locked me out of the house." I stared. Why would Sasuke lock his older brother out of his own home?

The first thing he did was raid the refrigerator and eat all my cookie dough ice cream, which got me pretty pissed off, then stole the bread to make 'bread men' and after that, cooked up some weird Chinese Stir Fry he _insisted_ would be 'good' for our 'spiritual being'. Kankuro just happily shoved it into his mouth (anything that was relatively edible he liked) and belched loudly. This lead to a belching contest with Itachi finally winning in the end after downing ten bottles of Mountain Dew and pulling out a 'big one' right into my face.

"I win!" He crowed, giggling, doing a little jiggly dance as Kankuro roared with laughter, "Got you, Gaara!" My eyes were large, wide, and _menacing_. Was this guy drunk or something? He was acting particularly insane, perhaps because we were in front of Kankuro, but it was positive that he had had _something _put into his system to make him this crazy.

After 'dinner' he'd insisted we take our Playstation Set, which was practically hidden a mound of dust as none of us really had enough spare time to actually _indulge_ in it—Kankuro was too busy cramming and having sex with his multiple girlfriends, Temari was off camping at Shikamaru's, and I was almost always out: at Neji's house, at Naruto's house, eating at the Ice Cream Shoppe, napping in the park, going to work, meeting up Umino-san, and about a thousand other things that took me _far and away_ from my flat. After searching through some of our rusting games, Itachi squealed when he found our Dance Dance Revolution set that Baki had brought home one day so he could force Kankuro to exercise and look at the TV at the same time.

"Gaara!" He screamed, literally hanging off my neck as he jumped up and down in excitement, "DDR! DDR! NOW! I'll verse you!" I was in a daze as he hopped off me and onto our couch, laughing maniacally as he bounced for a while there, muttering to himself excitedly with a few "Paranoia!" and "Butterfly!" heard from his ramble. I picked 'Sandstorm', my favorite song, and he immediately moved from excitedly bouncing on the couch to seriously poised over the DDR pad. "Gaara," He said, seriously looking at me in the eye with his own crimson ones, "This is… a matter… between life… and death."

The song started and then suddenly he was screaming again, prancing all over the pad in a frenzy as I coolly pressed the buttons in a slow monotone order. After I beat his butt ten times over, Itachi clung like a leech to Kankuro until my older brother reluctantly left his porn to go and dance with Itachi too.

By that time I was pretty much worn out, as Itachi had made me _dance to the same damn song twenty times_ and was slumped over on the table drinking this watermelon juice that Temari had made for us before we left. It was this rather stomach-turning brown color because Temari had said that grinding the skin along with the meat was _healthy_, and our family _needed_ healthy. I just glared it down and drank it anyways. Tasted like bug-eaten squash, but who really cared about what I think?

"I totally killed you!" Itachi screamed at Kankuro, who was hyperventilating on the floor because of too-much-exercise, "Die! _Die! DIE!_" After I stopped Itachi from ripping up our DDR pads and packed the system away, I went to the bathroom to take a shower and found, to my horror, Itachi _peeking_ at me through a crack through the door.

"Nice butt," he giggled before I slammed the door in his face. Looking at the mirror, I had to breathe in and out, in and out, repeating—_I cannot kill him, he is Sasuke's brother, I cannot kill him, he is Sasuke's brother, I cannot kill him, he is Sasuke's perverted brother who likes to stare at boys' butts and giggle, I CANNOT KILL HIM, EVEN IF I WANT TO GO OUT THERE AND STRANGLE HIM WITH MY BOXERS_—before turning on the water and giving myself five minutes of peace under its downpour.

After tugging on my pajamas which basically consisted of a pair of dark maroon pants, I trudged to my bedroom and fell on top of my bed, fully intending to get a good night's sleep.

But, it seemed, it was Itachi's _life goal_ or something to make me get _as least sleep as possible_ and it didn't really make me all that happy. "GAA-GAA AND I WALK DOWN THE RAAAAAAAILROAD!" He was shouting at the top of his lungs, "AND WE GO AND PEE AT THE SIIIIIIIIDE!" I moaned and buried my crimson locks under my pillow. What was he doing?

There were moments of pure silence for a while, before he would start whining, loudly, "I wish Kisame was here! Kiiiiiiisame! My little goooooldfish! Pretty little goooooooooldfish with a pretty little taaaaaaaaaaail!" I set my teeth on edge and endured. It was two in the morning when he suddenly burst into my room, causing me to embarrassingly jump up in fright as he suddenly launched himself at me.

"Gaara!" He screamed with a crazy smile on his face and I _swear_, my eyes were probably so big they filled up my whole face, "Have sex with me!"

"_What_?" I shrieked, high-pitched (Hey, it was two in the morning, I was sleepy, and I don't really look after my reputation when I was sleepy), "Itachi, get off!" But he was rubbing against me, arms wrapping around me in a no-escape hold as he straddled my leg.

"Pleeeeeease?"

As I told Umino-san before, I was a gay virgin _that was in love with Uzamaki Naruto_, and had _no plans_ to fool around with one of my friend's older brother. With the help of both panic and adrenaline I roughly kicked off the man, chased him into the hall, locked my door, and quickly buried myself back into my bed.

"Wah!" I could hear Itachi wailing outside, "Gaara won't do it with me! Kankuro! Kankuro, are you free?"

So yeah, you basically get why I'm drooling on my paper in my sleepy-daze right now.

"Hey, Gaara?" Dog-boy's standing over me, "Dude, the bell rang…"

"Hn…" Is my reply.

--

Today I got to see Lee have a haircut. It was a total accident, I swear.

"Neji—" I'm holding a pair of jeans in my left hand wishing it was one size larger so it could fit my butt, "Do you think—?" I stop the minute I set a foot in his room, eyes widening.

Lee is sitting absolutely still on a large wooden chair, heavy white cloth bound around his neck and spilling over his knees. Behind him is Neji, dressed in the usual black turtleneck and white-jeans, poised with his arms above Lee, scissors glinting menacingly in the light. _Snip. Snip._ Delicate finger entwine themselves with longish black strands as another perfectly manicured hand holds a pair of scissors that snips off the extra length with precise calculation. _Snip. Snip._ Lee fidgets a little as Neji moves down to the area behind his ear and the Hyuuga pinches him irritably.

Lee lets out a yelp and Neji pinches harder, "Shut up and hold still." He mutters darkly, and I faintly surprised that he didn't add a 'loser' to the end of that as well. The other senior whimpers half-heartedly and attempts to slump down in his chair without his 'hairdresser' noticing. Neji just sighs and continues snipping his hair. _Snip. Snip._

"Neji?" I finally manage to strangle out, "When did Lee get here?"

"Mm?" Neji is distracted, trying to get a particularly nasty piece of hair down to the desired two inches long, "Lee, where've you been rolling in? Cotton candy? Get—Off!"

"Ow!" Lee starts to cry because Neji's tugging hurts and I think I am having a heart attack—what should I do? Neji, however, is totally oblivious of the boy's sobs and instead, manages to yank out the stick-tangle of hair and throws it into the trashcan.

"There, I got it out."

"Along with the rest of my brain cells!"

"Shut up, loser," Neji snaps in his My-Word-Is-Final-Tone. "Don't be so hot-blooded you get riled up over a piece of hair. Now _sit still_, I'm almost done. Gaara, those pants are too small for you no matter how hard you try to fit in them—there's some more in that cabinet over there. If you still can't find anything you like you can always sneak into Hinata-sama's room at the risk of my uncle's impending doom, _hold still and stop fidgeting_!" I obediently follow Neji's orders not because I was scared but because I didn't want to see anymore of Lee's tears.

I didn't mind tears all that much in general, it was just that Lee, who was usually such a happy person, _crying_ was kind of upsetting, you know? Reminded me of Naruto crying, which I still have yet to see. I rummage through some of Neji's more exotic pants, like leather, jeans with various cuts on them, jeans with feathers and jewelry or _something_, jeans that weren't really jeans, more jeans, slacks, weird pant-things that had holes in inappropriate places, more holes, holes, holes, wait, are this even considered _pants_? some weird skirt-pant thing (skort?) and other items I would really rather not talk about. What did Neji _do_ with this stuff?

My mind flashes back to the _one time_ Kankuro dragged me over the TV to watch porn with him where I had watched the process of making children for five life-changing minutes before running out of the room and shocking myself in the process of totally discharging our flat's electrical system. Unfortunately, the system didn't get fixed a week later, which meant we had to embarrassingly borrow the next-door neighbor's bathroom and kitchen white Baki went to go and rent some home appliances. Fortunately, Kankuro couldn't watch porn for a whole seven days, which must have _killed_ him. Anyways, all these… clothes… made me think of those _five minutes_ of groaning, sweating, screaming, and all these words I don't dare say due to the safety of my own well-being and caused me to end up, a few seconds later, burying my face in a shirt because I had just replaced the woman in the scene with Neji and the picture was _horrifying_.

"N-no! No—that's too muc—stop it! Agh! N-no! Not th-that fast!"

I raise my head and turn to see what Neji was up to before I let my underused imagination explode. Since I was basically a realist, I never got caught up in the whole 'creativity-imagination' deal so there were actually less images in my head then actual phrases like 'Does Neji have sex' or 'Wonder what I will do if Naruto was dressed in this', which were almost just as bad.

Neji's hands are covered with some sort of slimy, sticky stuff that I immediately identify as gel and he is roughly pulling Lee's now shortened strands into spikes. Lee is wriggling madly now, not caring if the Hyuuga pinched him or not. "N-Neji that's cold! Stop it! I can d-do it myself—ah!" Neji's gelled hands had reached the bottom of his scalp, causing the gel to ooze down the poor boy's back. Lee thrashes in an effort to stop Neji's metaphorical assault and I stare shamelessly. What were they _doing_?

"There, there, done, now hold still and don't move while it dries. Gaara, did you look in _that_ wardrobe yet? It's got some pretty good stuff that I think you'll like…" Neji says in his short, curt voice as he sort of stumbles into his bathroom to wash off the gel and hair from his fingers. Lee is now sulking while standing straight, which was a funny image, trying not to whimper on the chair as I investigate the last damn wardrobe in the whole frickin' room.

Fortunately for him, Neji's intuition was right, as usual, as I found the contents of _this_ cabinet much more suited to my tastes. "Neji!" Lee's voice was in the background while I slipped into some more comfortable normal black pants, "My hair is a little too short over at the left…" Pull on a red tang top and the black jacket I still have yet to return to Kankuro, and I was pretty decent-looking. I can hear Neji growling in the background.

"Are you insulting my hairdresser abilities?"

"No, but you could have put more effort into making my hair neater?"

"_What_?" Neji's getting pissed off. I can feel his thoughts vibrate through the air—_I just spent approximately forty minutes cutting your damn hair and all you give back is a lousy 'I don't like it'? Screw you!_—thoughts he'd probably never dare voice out loud in his life at the risk of his wounded reputation. Lee turns his chin up in a visibly defiant manner.

"Besides, I never said I wanted my hair cut!"

"_Excuse me_?"

Feeling satisfied that I wouldn't completely scare Naruto off a second time and not really wanting Neji at Lee's throat, I stride over to where the two were glaring each other down (with Neji doing most of the glaring and Lee doing most of his turtle-pouting) and bend down. Examining Lee's hair, I furrow my brow.

"I like it," I say lowly, and Neji starts with surprise, "It suits you." Lee's eyes are large, big, and _round_ as they widen. Neji coughs embarrassingly into a hand and goes to clean up the dusting of hair on the ground with a broom.

I don't usually give out compliments. But I _had_ to get the two to stop arguing somehow, and this was the only way I thought of. It worked too, didn't it?

Lee unties the large cloth from around his neck and shakes his head free. After cracking his various bones and stretching his muscles for a little while, he gives me one of his blinding smiles and says, "Thank you, Gaara, but you should really be praising Neji. He is the one that did such a wonderful job in the first place!"

As he happily gathers his stuff and prances away, I look at Neji, who had been hiding his head in a towel, and knew immediately that he had been blushing.

"Lovebirds," I say sweetly in such an uncharacteristic way he snaps.

"Gaara! Shut up! Why did fate tell you to come and interrupt us? Shoo! Go on your date already!" He's throwing shampoo and gel bottles at me and for some reason I'm laughing, just totally out of control, like years of real laughter were bursting out of me through just one small moment. Covering my head with my backpack, I run out of his room and into the hall, him throwing more and more appliances at me, including the hair dryer and what looked to be a hair-straightener, until I'm out the door and onto my motorbike, still laughing as I drive away.

"Gaara! You better bring back those pants and tang-top!"

Sure, like _I'd_ ever forget.

--

The small restaurant was humming with activity, bright lights hung within and people brightly talking outside its door as I carefully slowed down my motorcycle and looked for a parking space. As the place wasn't _particularly_ popular or extremely busy enough to have mile-long lines, it wasn't that hard finding a small corner where an equally small red motorbike could fit in, right? Naruto, who had been clinging to me around the waist, pops off his helmet and peers at the restaurant with his large, crystalline-blue eyes.

"Looks homey," He finally chirps and, after some maneuvering, slides off the motorcycle seat with no damage whatsoever. It had started out a rather promising night, me driving over to Naruto's place and suffering the silent threats his aunt kept shooting at me, him hugging me around the waist (because he didn't want to fall off) and me finding the damn restaurant before I got _too_ lost it was obvious.

"Table for two," I muttered under my breath when the hostess looked at me expectantly. She stares for a moment between us, flushes, and then giggles behind the menus she brought out.

"Y-Yes sir." Naruto and I exchange blank looks. Um, gay fangirl moment? After successfully leading us to what was probably the most romantic table in the whole place (set next to a large balcony-like window and even had candles) along with fits of giggles and _looks_ along the way, she leaves us in peace.

"Huh," Naruto says questionably as he casually flips open the tall menu, "Weird girl." I nod in agreement and try to focus seriously on the choices placed in front of me. Being a naturally serious youth helped, but I felt an odd longing to stare at the person in front of me. Which is, ultimately, weird.

"Ah, Gaara!" Naruto is scratching his head in frustration, "I don't know what to get! Should I get the Miso Ramen with Seafood, or Cold Ramen with Vegetables and Shrimp? Oh, wait, this 'Volcano Island Beef Ramen' sounds pretty nice too…" Regardless of what the blonde is saying, I peek at him from cover of my menu.

He is dressed up in a black turtleneck that looked absolutely flattering on his lithe form and some jeans. Pretty casual wear, though he still looked good in it. Casual. _Casual_. Breathe, Gaara, breathe—this is a _casual dinner where nothing is really supposed to happen_. I force myself to stare at the menu, green eyes probably searing the words off the laminated paper.

_Ramen_—no, I don't like ramen that much, much to Naruto's utter horror.

_Seafood_—for some reason, shrimp makes me a little sick to the stomach. I always ended up sneaking pieces of it onto Kankuro's plate without him noticing.

_Noodles_—this is different from ramen? Oh, who cares? I scan the list and find this: House Lo Mein, Chicken Lo Mein, Beef Lo Mein, Shrimp Lo Mein (ew, no), Crab Lo Mein, Pork Lo Mein, Mystery Lo Mein…

Did they have anything but Lo Mein and Ramen? _Next_.

"Hey, hey, Gaara, look at the special! Doesn't that sound nice?" Naruto's taken a hold of my menu and was viciously jabbing his finger at the particular dish he wanted, "It's within your budget too! Please?" I blankly stare at him before staring at where his finger was.

_Japanese Dinner Special: One large bowl of Udon Noodles large enough for two: egg, vegetables, chicken, beef, and tempura! Two Sushi Sets: yellowtail, tuna, and shrimp. Soft Drinks and Refills Free!$29.99_

I widen my eyes. 29.99?! My budget had been thirty dollars. I glare at Naruto and he smiles back. "You really want to meet my budget to the max, huh?"

"Yup!" He chirps with that cheerful, happy-go-lucky grin and I can feel my resistance crumble. Sighing, I nod and fall onto my menu. Naruto cheers and would have done a victory dance if we weren't in a booth where he'd probably upturn the table and set the whole place on fire with the candles.

After a whole field of waitresses came over by us, not to take our order but to giggle, we finally got our order down and waited for the food to come. Naruto sips at a Dr. Pepper as he leans back on his comfy red-padded seat and I stare at him, brain trying to summon up a topic to discuss.

"How's Sasuke doing?"

"Hm?"

I mentally wallop myself over the head. Fool! _Never_ mention another rival's name in front of a date! My exterior is perfectly emotionless, however, due to years and years of experiencing inner-turmoil-while-being-blank moments I had shared with Baki. Take one step in a room where he and I were having a fight and you could feel ice form on your toes due to the subtle insults we threw at one another. It was pretty fun, until he moved away, of course.

"I heard he kicked Itachi out of the house two nights ago."

Naruto looks genuinely interested, "Really?"

I nod seriously. "He's been camping out at mine because of it."

At this, Naruto really just bursts out laughing. His lips curve upwards, revealing perfect white teeth, his cheeks rise and his whole face just opens up. Ok, so maybe I wasn't much of a poet, but you get my point. He giggles into a hand, snorts, and then rolls over so I can't see him anymore, body-wracking laughs emerging from where I thought his head was.

"I-Itachi? At _your_ house?" He lifts his head up enough for me to see his eyes full of tears, hopefully of joy, "H-have you died yet?" I fold my hands together as he regains his composure; face still a little pink from the laughter.

"Well, if you count being a walking zombie 'dying'." I rub my temples in exaggerated weariness (which wasn't hard since I _was_ tired) and he does this weird _clucking_ thing that makes me almost stop rubbing my temples to look at him oddly. He leans over and I feel his rough fingers gently push my own away as he starts to rub my temples for me.

There are several thoughts running through my brain right now, most of them incoherent. Finally three complete phrases surface:

One--I think. I have. _Died_.

Me and all those waitresses fainting from blood loss behind my seat.

Two—what were those waitresses doing behind me anyways?

I want to lean back and glare them down into little piles of soot, but then Naruto would stop massaging my temples.

And Three—Feels. So. _Good_.

I let my eyes close for a moment as I turn to putty under Naruto's fingers. It just feels _really, really _nice, because I _was_ truly sore in that area, not just all pretend. First he presses his thumbs up near my hairline, and then slowly works his way down until he's almost at my brow, caressing each set of sore muscles in the area. Even if I want to sigh, I don't make a sound. Years of self-restraint kicking in. Just don't stop.

Much to my displeasure, however, he _does_ stop after a while because it must feel pretty uncomfortable with the edge of the table jabbing into your stomach, and says, "There, better?"

"Better." I confirm. He just laughs.

"Man, Itachi's real good if he can get our Gaara-chan sore!" I twitch. Gaara-chan? Don't treat me like a teddy bear! Instead of voicing this thought aloud, however, I cough. For some reason, every time I hang around one of my three friends, my cold exterior seems to unwind, no matter how desperately I try to catch it within my fingers. Wishing that the waitress hadn't taken the menu away because I _swear_ my face was probably the color of my hair, I instead try to pull a mask of iciness onto my expression as I look at him.

"How so?"

"Well," The blonde drawls out as he leans back and crosses his arms, "I don't know, you always have that air of 'I'm antisocial don't you dare touch me' and all that, you know? Worse then even Neji, sometimes, it's like you're always unwilling to speak. In the end, even when we _do_ get you to talk, you talk as little as possible and don't give us specifics. Plus, you almost never show any normal reactions, like stress, sadness, true happiness…" He leans over again, face totally believing everything he is saying, "And it's like, Gaara, open up! And anyways, you always look really handsome when you smile, too."

Widening my eyes, I try to somehow brush off the last comment in a normal way without acting too flustered, "What, so I'm a total beast when I'm not?" Naruto just ruffles his hair, like he wanted to ruffle mine but was too scared of getting his hand bitten off, and chuckles.

"No, I never said that. Pretty suave as you are. But," He waggles his eyebrows, "not as suave as me."

"You're so conceited." I tease lightly, playing along. It wasn't often I teased people, but it wasn't often people called me suave, either. Before I get another word in, however, that blasted waitress comes charging in, arm full of a humongous out-of-proportion bowl of udon, ranting off something about how the cook had been up to his elbows in orders and she was so sorry that she was late, that the sushi orders were going to come out later and if I wanted we can even have a free pie when we leave (which Naruto was like "Yah! Lemon Meringue!") and that she really needed to get back to the kitchen or else the boss _will kill her_, bye!

"C'mon, Gaara, Lemon Meringue?" Naruto's widened his eyes so his crystalline blue irises shone with a newfound teary manner, "I haven't eaten it for _soooooooo_ long! Actually, the last time I ate it was when Itachi made it for Sasuke's birthday party three years ago and he won't make it again because he says it's easier to make apple pies. Please?"

I feel the urge to give in pulling me down, but despite him being my crush I didn't bend down that easy. "No, Naruto."

"Why not?"

"I don't like marshmallows."

"Along with hot tamales, shrimp, ramen, air heads, candy in general, salami and Pepsi!" Naruto whines, sighing as he takes the store-wrapped chopsticks and very messily breaks them in two, "Man, just _one_ pie won't kill you!"

I don't even bother to tell him the real reason I hated Lemon Meringue pie was because Temari had made some for me when I was around five, claiming that it was good. I had taken a bite out of it without realizing the yellow tint on the marshmallow was because Kankuro had peed on it before Temari had taken it into the kitchen. I also then remember taking a hold of that idiot brother of mine's throat and repeatedly banging his head against the kitchen wall until Mother told me to stop. Regardless of whose fault it was, in the end the result was the same: I never touched any pie that was yellow ever again in my life.

"Gaara, why aren't you eating? If you don't eat fast, I'll eat it all!" He cackles in an attempted evil manner, though he just manages to sound like he's gagging. I look down and realize that we were going to have to share a bowl. After Temari's gushing voice that murmured in my ear about indirect kisses was abruptly shoved off a cliff, I pick up my own chopsticks, jab it into an innocent lettuce-piece floating by and take a vicious bite out of it. I'm pissed and pleased at the same time; I just hope my face doesn't look _too_ odd…

I bathe in the pleasant atmosphere created with Naruto chatting away about normal things like how he had _just managed_ to pull an 'A-' in art because he'd finally let go of his pride and begged Neji to help him on his hands and knees and how Sasuke had been avoiding him lately because Itachi has been going on 'Drunken Rages' ever since Kisame had left for a week-long business trip (explained why Sasuke had locked his brother out the house and why he was currently camping out at mine) and how he just didn't have time to deal with the blonde, which made him pretty mad. I just nod and say "Uh huh," and "Oh, really?" at the right times while he talks and he's apparently satisfied with my almost-silence.

I watch as the udon in the bowl shrinks from overflowing, just below to rim, halfway, and, finally, to just-soup. Once or twice we accidentally grabbed the same noodle, but then I just let go of my end since I wasn't particularly romantic and wasn't about to kiss Naruto at the end of the strand like those dogs in 'The Lady and the Tramp'. Or something.

Finally, after Naruto's conversation sort of trickles off, the bowl is empty, the sushi platters are cleaned off (they came after the bowl was almost finished) and it's obvious he's pretty full because of the content smile that has crept onto his face, he looks at me expectantly. "Gaara…"

"Hn?"

"I just wanted to know…" He leans over a little and for some reason his breath smells a little like peppermint. Do not ask me why. Especially after eating Udon. I hold my breath for a second as I waited for what he wanted to know. If I felt for him that way? What did I think of Sasuke? Did I _really_ have a crush on Neji? "…why do you wear eyeliner?"

My first reaction is to deadpan and my second reaction is to pick myself up. My hopes, though futile in the first place, are gently crushed and I can feel Naruto-Gaara beating himself over the head inwardly, though my exterior reveals null of my thoughts. "Let's," I answer curtly, "just say I got into Temari's makeup bag one day when I was little."

"Ah." He answers, and I feel almost immediately guilty because my reason was an almost complete lie. True, I _did_ get into Temari's makeup bag once, but that wasn't the real reason I wore eyeliner. It was because I was suffering from eye bags due to lack of sleep and needed a way to make myself _not_ looking like a walking zombie. It just so happened that one day I had been clearing up the living room and encountered one of Temari's fashion magazines with tips on 'applying your eyeliner and make the boys swoon!' Apart from the 'boys swoon' part, they basically had everything I needed to become an eyeliner-addicted freak. I wasn't about to tell the clueless blonde that I actually had _eye bags_. No way.

"Question to you too." I say in my quiet, sort of gravely voice, "So what _did_ happen at the Harvest Festival?"

Naruto groans. "Gaara! Why are you bringing that up _now_?"

I am curt. "Last time you waved it off."

He scrunches up his nose in this cute, little rabbit-like way that makes me want to sneeze (because seeing his noise wrinkle up makes me think of my nose, which then, obviously, makes me want to sneeze), "Ok, so you want to know? Well, I asked Hinata out for the dance at the risk of Neji cutting my throat," I remember that, Neji was raving mad for about two weeks and practically _bit_ anyone that tried to talk to him, "and she had said yes. We went together, everything was fine, blah, blah, blah, and then Hinata got sucked into a conversation with Tenten and Sakura and I was _so_ frickin' _bored_. Plus," He eyes me, "you weren't there either." I don't even bother to inform him that I _was_ there, just that I had been the unwilling wallflower that stuck to the shadows and became basically invisible compared to the crazy strippers out there on the dance floor. "Anyways, I was bored and then Sasuke came up to me and was all like 'Hey Naruto, let's go outside!' and so we did, snuck out there under the moon and…" He scratches the back of his head uncomfortably, "well, he tried to make a move and I… turned him away?" The last part sounds uncertain.

I don't feel like kicking him under the table to let him know I know he was lying. Well, I lied too, so I guess it was lie for a lie, huh? After grudgingly letting Naruto get a Lemon Meringue pie on the basis that he would eat it all and not force some down my throat, I sigh as I realize the date was over. Taking out my wallet, I carefully tug out a twenty dollar bill and then a ten dollar one. There is a shrill shrieking noise, and I look around irritably before realizing it was emerging from Naruto's parted lips. "Gaara!" he squealed, high-pitched, "Don't forget to, don't forget to, don't forget the tiiiiiiiiiiiiip!"

I throw my water bottle at him (even though the special came with drinks I still carried around my handy-dandy water bottle) and shout, as he runs out the door, me chasing after him, "Shut _up_!"

"Ha!" Naruto giggles as he attempts to hide behind my motorbike, "Gaara is so cute when he yells!"

I don't pay any attention. I don't make a sound as I straddle my motorbike with an unusual calmness that had somehow managed to wash over me as a chorus of "Let me drive! Let me drive!" echoes from somewhere behind me (Naruto, of course). I start the thing, and, with a rumble, drive off into the night.

--

Author's Notes: I HAVE UPDATED! (hallelujah!) Bunches of other nonsensical things, however. For those who don't remember, Gaara first asks about the Harvest Festival in Chapter Two, when the two were passing around notes. Yes, a long stretch, but that's how I work sometimes... Another date! Should they follow the three dates rule or should they have some more? Anyways, R/R and I'll be real grateful! I'm already at the mercy of those loyal readers of mine who are kind enough to leave reviews (bows down to reviewers) Thank you! You give me the support I need to continue on with the story! XD More things happening next chapter, promise! Another session with Iruka... heh...


	12. Name: Hospital

_There is nothingness where I am, standing still in a field of white and blank and a whole of holes. There are voices dancing around me, close enough for me to feel their edge but no way near close enough for me to listen in. I know I'm going to die. That's what people do to people who murder others. Die, in the name of "justice"._

_Fuck them. The Justice System is made of a bunch of sissy-bastard hypocrites that'd jump at the chance of killing another themselves. I wish I'd targeted more government officials in my rampage._

_They kill murderers because they took "others away from their families and beloved". Pah. Did they ever think about how killing a murderer takes THEM away from THEIR families and beloved? Like that woman in the news, before I was born. I heard they killed her, even though she had a baby, killed her right in front of the baby and didn't give a damn. _

_People are idiots that way. Shukaku is whispering sweet murderous things into my ear as I stare up at the judges, a young psychiatrist at the stand--he's defending me, I think--trying to convince the man that I was clinically insane. He takes out folders, he takes out books, he gets other witnesses to come up to speak for me, but I'm not listening, I can't hear, anything other then the words Shukaku are saying. And even those are deaf to my ear._

_The psychiatrist is young. Dark brown hair, tied up in a ponytail. When he turns around I can see a scar slashed across his nose. I stare, then forget. Forget everything there--what the judge looked like, what Temari and Kankuro looked like, Baki, my father, before he was killed, what was said there, the psychiatrist altogether, gone, gone, gone..._

_Because it would be too hard to remember._

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

The first time I went to the Nara residence the deer was what caught me off-guard the most.

Standing there in the frigid cold with two sweatshirts pulled over a black tee and a pair of dark trouser-things I grabbed from the finished laundry bin this morning, I stared into a pair of large, innocent eyes dyed a dark hazel brown. I stare. The deer stares back, flattens its ears, and makes this weird braying noise that makes me jump up in surprise.

"Ha," A familiar tone says dryly from behind me, "She _likes_ you." I turn my head towards him, finally recovering my composure, and stuff my freezing hands into my large and fuzzy trouser-pockets (fuzzy… obviously one of Kankuro's pairs, of course, because no time in my right mind I'd buy something _fuzzy_). Shikamaru was dressed a heck of a lot differently, like he was still living in the good old days of Daniel Boon and whoever else became a 'wild man' or something. No, he wasn't wearing skins or moccasins, just his handmade boots, dark green vest, black leather gloves and these pants that looked twice as bulky as mine, if that were possible. It was just his whole… _posture_… made it look like he was living in the good ol' days.

"Came to see Temari?" He says simply, and I nod, eying the deer with wary eyes. It blinked back at me, the image of innocence. Scowling, I turn my back away from the infuriating animal and look around.

Finding the residence had been extremely hard, maybe because it is situated in the middle of the Konoha Forest and was a _big, frickin' farm_. That's right, people, Shika lives on a farm and it smelled like _deer_ here. Yes, a deer farm. Who would want to raise deer? A couple of weirdos? I have yet to ask Shikamaru their importance but this is not the time.

"So where is she?"

The other junior nodded towards the _wooden door_ (I mean real planks of wood—big, _solid_ planks), "She's inside with my mom. Are you going to come in?" I hesitate a moment before I nod. Giving a final wary glance to the deer that said I'm-watching-you, I enter a domain that smelt, horrifyingly, of pine.

The first room we encounter is surprisingly modern, unlike the outward farm-like appearance the house gave off at first. Nice white walls with plenty of scenery portraits and landscape paintings decorating interior, dark green sofas aligned in a rectangular fashion before a normal family-sized TV (bigger then the one we have at home, which was supposed to be a personal television but ended up being shared by all of us), spiraling stairs leading upwards into the bedrooms. The only distortion to the whole modern-day feel were the deer skins that were 'rugs' lying on the ground and a whole line of thick bags lined up against the wall that said 'Doe Chow Extra Strength: All the nutrients your lovely deer need!' I stare at the furniture for a while as I'm taking off my sneakers and Shikamaru, his boots.

We step into the room.

Immediately the air is disrupted by loud, high-pitched screams.

"Shikamaru! Did you do your chores yet? If you don't sweep up the dung in the eleventh stall Maki's going to get a parasite virus or something! Shikamaru! _Shikamaru_! _NARA SHIKAMARU _are you _listening_ to me, young man?" I think I can feel my eardrums threatening to burst.

Shikamaru has a finger in his ear as he mumbles, "I know, I know, shut the heck up Mom, I heard you the first time! Gaara, over here." He leads me into a small room off the side next to the ladder as another wave of shouting hits our ears.

"Did you just tell me to 'Shut the heck up'? _Is this how you treat your mother_? The mother had _took care of you_ and _fed you_ and made sure _all your needs were met_, huh? Ungrateful little brat! Shikamaru, come here! And do your chores! _Shikamaru_!"

I let a drop of sympathy slither into my emotions. Shikamaru's mother reminded me of Temari except ten times worse—wait, where was Temari anyways? I open my eyes, alert, and see that Shikamaru was leading me through a large storage room or something, with harnesses, brushes, weird metal-hook things I didn't dare think what they were used for, and other gadgets and deer-farm related things. The air was stuffy with an acrid leather smell, the lights a dim golden color seeping from an old-day gas lamp hung from the ceiling. I stare.

"Gas lamp?"

"Dad has a fetish with old-time things," was his reply and I didn't comment further about it.

After a little pushing and shoving and almost getting suffocated by a particularly large punching bag-like thing, we manage to pop out unharmed into an open field behind the large farm house. The moment I step out onto the grass, however, a faint _stampeding_ sound can be heard, and that was my only warning as I suddenly got pummeled by _large, brown, fuzzy _things.

"Po-po! Kimi! Ba! _Maki_! Off! All off!"

Shikamaru has apparently taken a large equally fuzzy hook-like object and was gently prodding the deer that were all stomping, licking, and, even, peeing on me all at once, to get off, "Bad boys! Go! Shoo! Go flirt with Yuri or something over there, doesn't she seem lonely? Get _off_!" A rather persistent little buck, Maki, I think, had such an affinity with me that Shikamaru had to tuck his hook-thing away and wrap himself around the small deer to haul him off.

By that time we were both panting and I had pee all over my hoodie. I motion towards the wet spot near my abdomen and the other boy screws his face up into one of extreme annoyance. "Agh… this is so troublesome…"

"Gaara?"

I look behind me with an expression of utter distaste after being peed on, stomped on, and probably sexually harassed (the deer things were _humping _me or something!) and was now in an explicitly stated 'bad mood'. I immediately wished I hadn't looked.

Shikamaru, who obviously was not as fazed as I was, says, "Hey, Temari."

Oh. My. Not-God (I didn't like to use the 'lord's name in vain' or some other stuff like that not because I was Christian, which I'm not, but because it was a totally stupid phrase in the beginning—was there even a God? If there was, you would be blaspheming. If there wasn't, why were using his name in the first place? It was a total lose-lose situation).

Let me back up and hand you a photo of Temari at the Sabaku residence.

Hair tied up neatly into four ponytails, two at the top of her head, two at her neck, neatly done makeup that consisted of lip gloss and mascara, mostly wearing purple low-cuts or shoulder-hugging long-sleeves, dark purple or white skirts that went mid-thigh or maybe some light lavender Capri's, white stockings, socks, whatever was in her cabinet, fish-nets, if she was in the mood, buckled girl's shoes that made her look ten, a pale complexion that ran in the Sabaku family, hands smooth and white, though a little roughened up from martial arts training and a pair of dark green eyes glinting with a hidden strength from within.

Let me now hand you a picture taken in my mind when I first turned around to acknowledge her again.

Long hair now braided in pigtails behind her, face make-up-less, wearing a dark deerskin dress that went to mid-thigh and was decorated with little leather tassel-things that annoys me, almost exact copies of Shikamaru's boots except girl-ified, a weird tan hat that she was fanning herself with, green eyes now large and sparkling, skin a much darker tan color then what she had left with.

In other words, it was like _Temari made over country-style_. I gawk as she and Shikamaru hold a normal conversation, like Shikamaru didn't notice the obvious change in my sister's attitude. But of course, it was _his_ house that made her dress this way so why would I be surprised?

"Temari…" I say in a low-tone, and she turns to look at me, "um, can Shikamaru leave?" Before the words are out of my mouth the deer-boy had already disappeared around a mysterious corner that probably only existed in my mind. I glance back at Temari.

An enormous grin is pulled across her face, lips stretched so that her dimples are all bunched up near the edge of her mascara-less eyes, "Oh, Gaara, I have _so_ much to tell you!" she gushes, looking like she wanted to envelope me in a rib-crushing hug but was too scared to because of my murderous intent, "It's been so _great_ here! Sit down! How's things at home?" her eyebrows furrow, "Did you do the laundry? How many people has your brother slept with this week? Oh my word, how much money did you spend on take-out?"

I stare at her blankly while trying to process the questions and answers inside my already thought-filled brain, "Hectic. Yes. I think at least four or five, you never know. Probably close to eighty dollars." She looks absolutely ecstatic, and I look at her warily. Who was the cowgirl and what had she done with the real Temari?

"Oh that's great! I was worrying that I'd left too much responsibility for you two back at home, you know, because you're boys and all, no offense," she adds as she catches the irritated twitch I made at the sexist comment, "but it is so _awesome_ out here it's making me crazy!"

Before I can stop her, a torrent of stories about the Nara household spills from her lips, washing me away in their speed and strength, "So when I first came, Shika's mom was in the living room and she was just like 'Oh poor dear! Shikamaru's been telling me all about you! Come here!' and she sat me down on the couch and forced me to drink some _really, really good_ cocoa and listened as I told her all about th-that _bastard_ Yuki, and she even agreed me with how he was so stupid and let me stay here. Anyways, I'm staying in the guest room next to Shika's room, and the first thing we did the morning after I came was to go hiking out back with the deer. Those things are _so_ cute, aren't they? Makes me want to cuddle with them, except Shika says they'll pee all over me—like they did to you, is that wet spot them? Thought so. So we were out there hiking and I realized how bad of a sister I was."

I am horrified to see tears streaming down Temari's face as she crouches down to my level and pats my head, like I was still only six years old, "All these years I've been too busy being scared of you to realize that deep down inside, you were really just a scared little boy that didn't know any better and was just lashing out because you were hurt. I feel so guilty! I should've been better to you and Kankuro, and if I had you probably would actually _smile_ at home, instead of being stoic like you usually are and Kankuro wouldn't be sleeping around with all those awful women!" Before I can let anger cloud my vision at how I was a 'scared little boy' she puts an arm around me and starts sobbing on my shoulder. "Gaara, will you ever forgive me?"

I stare. I stare harder. Alright, I was almost _absolutely positive_ this girl was _not_ my sister. What the hell was going on? "Um… I really couldn't care less." For some reason, this makes her extremely happy. Removing her face from my hoodie with a renewed smile on her face, she practically bounces back.

"Really, Gaara? Really? You…" she sniffs and wipes her nose on a handkerchief she had someone dug out of her leather breast pocket, "You don't know how much this means to me!" I just stare, too stunned to speak. I wasn't one to be mushy-gushy, as one would know. I was a trained, hardened, killing machine that didn't mind a little blood and flesh scattered around. You really _had_ to misplace the feelings to go about killing the way I had.

After my sister has properly cleaned herself on and regained her composure, she snaps back to her almost-normal Temari form by forcing me to remove my Hoodie and draping me with a blanket she dug almost out of nowhere. "Hey, Gaara," She giggles uncharacteristically, though by now I am already pretty much numb to all her 'new' habits, "can you keep a secret?" I cock my head to the side and say nothing. Silence was a virtue, right?

"Hn?"

"I think…" she looks down and I can see a wave of red sweep over her cheeks, like… like… a lovesick schoolgirl, like the time she first came home that day when Yuki had asked her to marry her, that _freak_, "I think… I'm in love with…" She visibly gulps, "Shika…" She squirms in anticipation of what I have to say.

I stare at her, running through my vocabulary, trying to find the correct words to express my shock at how she was _falling in love _with one of her brother's…friends? No, more like acquaintances, who was _three years younger then her_ and also my smug 'I knew you were going to get together' expression flitting through my face. "Um… I really don't care much more about this then forgiving you..."

She squeals. "Thank you, Gaara! You're the best brother ever!" I don't bother to point out the irony at her comment. After briefly giving me a bone-crushing hug and then jumping back like she'd touched a hot coal (which is an accurate description in many ways; my red hair and my fiery, murderous temper), she let out a laugh of what must have been relief. I stare at her. Er… ok? I had no idea what I had done to make her so ecstatic but as long as she was happy and not after my throat, all was… well?

"Hey," Shikamaru pokes his head out from the wooden door, leaning over to see what Temari and I was up to, which wasn't much, "Mom made some of her gingerbread cookies. If you don't want to continue freezing your butts off outside, come in and get some cocoa."

"Coming!" Temari says, back to her normal, strong self, "C'mon Gaara, I already told you about Mrs. Nara's _awesome_ cocoa! Come _on_!" Sighing, a little shocked and disturbed already from Temari's sudden change of… heart? Character? Both? I head in after my sister, still wondering what would happen to my deer piss hoodie.

Maybe I'll stuff it down Shikamaru's throat and watch him choke?

_Now that's an interesting thought_, I chuckle to myself as I close the door behind me.

--

The morning after visiting my sister (who insisted on staying at the Nara's for another three days, unfortunately), I impulsively decide to walk to the psychiatrist's instead of just riding there under the excuse that it would be 'good for me'. The real reason was that Itachi, who was _still_ camping out at our house, had come up with the brilliant idea to spray paint part of my motorbike magenta and I was so furious with him I didn't want to deal with a wounded reputation on top of that. It would be like insult to injury. So I grit my teeth, stuff my hands into my jacket and push through a horde of some of Itachi's friends by the front door (I don't recognize many of them except for Dei, who lives in the flat next to us—that was how Itachi knew where I lived) into the frosty air.

March was slowly coming to an end and the Battle of the Bands was frighteningly drawing closer. Sighing at my own caught-up, stressful life, I aim my furious glare at my feet as I briskly stride down the steep slope of the street, through No-Man's market, across a field of what used to be flowers but were now empty stalks stiff in the cold, into an alleyway which I knew quite well and out onto Main Street, where I carefully opened the door to my psychiatrist's office and quietly stepped in.

The door closes behind me. It is pitch black and I stumble over something lying on the ground, hands groping around for a wall, a chair, _something_ to guide me in the darkness. Blindly wandering around, I hear noises close by.

"No, no, I can't…"

"But c'mon… only a second…"

"I have another appointment—let me go!"

"But Iruka…"

"Stop it—ah!"

My brow shoots up to my hairline. From the voices alone I can pinpoint Umino-san and… Hatake-san? What were they doing? "Hello?"

There is a yelp and a thud as something hits the floor hard, along with a scrambling of feet. Slowly, the lights flicker on and Umino-san, whose front shirt looked a little wrinkled, coughs embarrassingly at the sight of me staring at him, and motions me into his office. Hatake-san, who looks obviously dissatisfied, rubs his head gingerly as he lifts himself off the floor and gives me a small smile that obviously cursed me for interrupting their… happy time. After giving my boss a wary look, I follow Umino-san into the little now remodeled room, complete with a kitchen and small futon now. I peer at the futon with surprise.

"What's that for?"

For some reason, Umino-san's face flushes pink and he coughs embarrassingly, "Um, for when I get tired…during the day." I quirk a brow at him and he turns away from me, suddenly totally engrossed in his coffee. I look out through the door and see Hatake-san's face peek out from behind the doorframe. I shut the door with a slam.

"What was that?" Umino-san looks up hurriedly and my face is quickly devoid of all emotion.

"No one. What are we talking about today?"

"Um," he scratches his nose as he carries his mug of coffee to the coffee table and slowly set it upon its varnished wooden surface, "well, I just, well, wanted to talk about… who you are." I am silent, and, obviously feeling pressured, the psychiatrist continues to talk. "Of course, it has to be a fair exchange. Some psychiatrists have a rule to reveal as little about themselves to their clients, but I don't follow that rule. I think it's better to carry burdens together then just dumping a whole package on someone who already has a lot of troubles."

I nod. The less words, the better.

"So I'll start with myself." He takes a sip of steaming coffee and leans back, like he was so used to telling the story he'd already taken steps to make it less painful for his audience, "I was born here, in Konoha, in the middle-straw class where I was neither poor nor rich, neither smart nor stupid. I went to school like any normal kid, for a while, until…" He sits still, very still, as if a tremor of pain had run through him, "Have you heard of Kyuubi?"

I shake my head no.

He cracks the same forlorn smile had had directed me to the first time he had handed me my father's will, on that hill in what seemed like ages ago. "Kyuubi was a mass murderer, a ruthless woman whose pain tore her apart. She was always compared to a fox, both because of her looks and personality along with her uncanny reason for murder: she believed Konoha was the true land for the wildlife, and that the people who were invading the forest were murderers themselves. This reasoning led her to believe her killings were justified—because of her love for nature she turned on her own kind and starting slaying random civilians: men, women, children, even babies… she had no heart, no mercy. She haunted the news, the streets, our minds for months, killing every day, never getting caught until one fateful night when the police found out where she lived and raided the place."

I'm listening intently. He looks pained, as if recalling a memory too awful to remember. Taking another shaky sip from his coffee cup, he coughs.

"My father and mother… are both policemen." he says in a quiet voice, eyes glazed over, distantly remembering memories long buried. Even though it looks as if he was used to telling the story, it ached every time he tried to touch the past, "They were in the raid that invaded Kyuubi's home. Immediately when they entered, there was gunfire. Rapid gunfire. First, my uncle and aunt, my parents' friends, were badly wounded in the gut and chest as the other policemen rushed in. They surrounded Kyuubi, but that caused her to shoot faster. I don't know, but according to the only uninjured man from that squad," he pauses a little, then continues, "he heard gunshots, then a scream, and turned around to see my father flailing on the floor, his jacket soaked with blood, my mother shortly following him. Seeing it was futile to try to capture her, he dragged the wounded policemen out of the apartment building, calling for backup, but not before… not before, inside the house, a little behind the gunfire site with Kyuubi, he heard the cry of a baby…"

He pauses again, this time choking down some coffee to hide his obvious discomfort. "My parents were declared dead not ten hours later. I was only nine at the time, and I remember being afraid and alone. I was shipped off to some aunt's house for several years, before I finally managed to snag a place of my own under the 'protection' of my aunt. I started playing hooky, smoking, doing drugs, even drinking alcohol, going totally out of control. My aunt didn't care a crap, so I just continued to do it until the only thing I haven't done yet was murder and have sex. Committing murder was against what I thought of with my parents, so I was determined to get laid.

"After some decisions, I put a condom in my pocket and went off to a high school party. I got smashed, I blacked out, I woke up next to a strange person. At least I had enough sense to use the condom I had tucked into my pocket, but when I looked up I realized that the person I had slept with was a _guy_. Before I can catch a good glimpse of him, I had picked up my clothes and rushed out the door, the only thing lingering on my mind was his unusual silver hair and swirl-like tattoo on his arm.

"Afterwards, in my embarrassment, I committed myself more to girls. I dated them, hung out with them, but they always broke up with me in the end because I was unwilling to have sex with them. They assumed I was a virgin who was too stuck-up to sleep with people. But because of my initial shock when I first got laid, I was always worrying about if I had a sexually transmitted disease, if I was going to die, and more, and even after it was obvious I was fine and that I wasn't in any danger of death, I was always just a little scared. After the party-incident, I decided to pull myself up from the hole I'd dug for myself. I got my grades up, stopped drinking, quit smoking, refused drugs, moved back in with my aunt and started to actually look for a job. When I graduated, I entered the community college and got a teaching degree. I was a teacher for about three years, teaching kindergarten and second grade. My life had definitely turned for the better.

"One day I was walking home from the supermarket when someone grabbed my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw a man with a patch over his left eye, shocking silver hair, and a turtleneck pulled over his face. 'Yo,' he said as I was trying to not look startled, 'Found you.'" Suddenly, Umino-san's face softens to one of utter devotion and, probably, 'love' (did my face look like that when I thought of Naruto?), "Little did I know, but it was the same guy who took my virginity back in my freshman year, high school—Hatake Kakashi, music prodigy and former music teacher. Back then, he had still been a music teacher, so we knew each other at work. Say," he suddenly looks thoughtfully, "didn't he just quit teaching a year ago?"

"Last semester," I correct him. Rumor had it Hatake-san had finally found himself a decent job that paid more then what the school had to offer him and that was why he left. But seeing him working at the music shop I taught at was just too hilarious to speak of. He'd actually bought the old manager out and replaced him, forcing him to spend most of his time at the shop. Because he was the old music teacher, however, some people still had a hard time calling him 'Hatake-san' and not 'Hatake-sensei'. I used to call him Hatake-sensei, too, but decided to convert it to Hatake-san after Naruto aimed a few dirty he's-not-a-teacher-dammit looks at me during a particular conversation we had some weeks ago.

"Yes, last semester," Umino-san says off-handedly, "and basically I quit my job teaching and went back to college, earning my psychology degree and becoming a psychiatrist. Kakashi and I moved in later… and… yeah…" That last part is filled with blushes that show up well on Umino-san's well-toned face, "um… and that's my… sad? past."

I nod, acknowledging the man. He's emptied his coffee mug and was now staring at it in such a sad manner I wanted to crack up. I mean, seriously, a grown man, mourning over a cup of brown liquid that he could easily make again. I stare out into the distance, wondering what the chances were my love life was to be as smooth as his. Losing his virginity to a random man at a party and then meeting up with him again more then seven years later and getting together with him for more then… eight years? I'm not exactly particular to mental math and wish I had Sasuke at my side. He's a math wiz.

"…do I… have to talk now?" I ask hesitantly, though I already know the answer. Umino-san just smiles at me, morose after telling his story. The ending was happy, though the beginning was filled with heart-wrenching grief. Similar to mine, though there has not been that much joy to mine at all.

"Yes."

I cross my eyes (a habit I picked up from Neji, must to my embarrassment).

I try to keep my story succinct. "I was born into one of the most powerful families in Suna, the city where I lived in before. My father, however, was a ruthless ruler and shipped me and my siblings off along with my aunt and my tutor and bodyguard, Baki, for 'training' in the slums. My mother had died at my birth and, when I was little, I had the cliché feeling that Temari and Kankuro were always accusing me of her death. I grew up in a harsh lifestyle, my father coming to visit once in a while, but only to teach me how to hold a gun correctly or a knife." I laugh a little bitterly, "I must have been so odd to my siblings—a five year old boy, confused and small, holding a butcher knife the length of his arm. I was his 'ultimate weapon'. As long as I was strong, Suna Tech had a chance of surviving the 'hard times'. But, after a while, my father started fearing what I had become. He tried to kill me several times, sometimes through bodyguards, sometimes trying to do the deed himself. He failed, however, and I am still standing here today. He failed, tragedy's happen, my aunt dies, I become a serial killer, Baki ships us, my siblings and I, to Konoha and we've been here since." I stop. "Baki left us two years ago to go back to his hometown. It's just me, Temari and Kankuro now."

Umino-san is looking me through curious eyes, observing my every move and motion, how I spoke and what I revealed, tapping his bottom lip with a finger. I feel like a specimen that must be examined in every which way, every secret buried inside pulled to the surface, every thought fluttering about caught and trapped in his scrutiny. "Hm… that last part is pretty fast. Describe that last year, where your father died a little more."

I feel a small tendril of anger thread through the emotionless mask I wore on my face. I hated being forced to do anything, no matter how small, though the tone Umino-san had used spoke of not even thinking of disobeying. I breathe in and out. _Psychiatrists help you. Answer all of their questions and you will get better_. I don't remember where those words had come from, but I cling to them with a metal grip that refuses to let go.

"I was put on trial for murder… twenty-six cases, and I was about to be sentenced to life sentence when something weird happens. I apparently get away with it because I was both underage and 'clinically insane'. There is… a gap… between that and suddenly moving the day my father's death is announced on the news. The murderer was unknown, but I felt a strange gratefulness to the guy—he got rid of something in my life that had been holding me down for so long."

"A… gap?" Umino-san coaxes.

My eyes narrow, "I don't remember what happened between there. It's approximately a nine-month gap." His eyebrows lift a little, inquiring. I ignore them—he thought there was something vaguely unusual about not being able to remember anything in a nine-month time span. And, unlike other things I had missed out on, I _really_ didn't know what had happened there; it truly _was_ a time-gap.

There is an uncomfortable silence for a while, me casually lying on the couch and Umino-san, still looking sadly at his coffee mug. The sun flits through the blinds, quietly, spontaneously, and I immerse myself in studying the patterns reflected onto the floor, wondering where these things came to being. Umino-san is examining his nails, then to the mug, and then back to his nails, like clockwork, trying to find fault in his fingertips when there weren't any. Suddenly, the silence is shattered when Umino-san squawks in surprise, face flushing a dark crimson as he looks down to where a hand had just been squeezing his butt. "Kakashi!"

"Aw," The music prodigy lifts himself from behind the armchair the psychiatrist had been sitting in and leans forward, head resting on Umino-san's shoulder, "And I was having so much fun, too."

I stare as the psychiatrist opens and closes his mouth like a fish in bewilderment for a moment before shrieking, "When did you get here? How many times do I have to tell you _not to embarrass me_ in front of my clients? _And what are you reading_?"

"Make-out Paradise." is the curt answer. Umino-san looks like he is going to die, the blood rushing to his face along with the choking and all.

"_Ka-KAKASHI!"_ he just manages to holler shrilly after getting his mouth to work.

"By Jiraiya?" I say blankly. I remember the one time the band met at Naruto's house and we arrived at the exact moment his aunt and uncle were having a fight about how Jiraiya had used Tsunade's name in his newest novel and how it was porn and was not respectable and all this other crap I have conveniently forgotten. That, and the fact that most of the money that family lives on is from Make-Out Paradise Enterprises, which Jiraiya obviously owns.

Hatake-san's eyes twinkle mischievously as he turns to face me, "Ah, so you know of it? My, I didn't except people your age already got into this kind of stuff… but teenage boys will be boys, after all." I didn't even bother to acknowledge his thinly veiled accusation of me reading/watching porn. Hell no, I'm not like Kankuro. Before I can inform him that I knew of Jiraiya because he is my crush's (I still have yet to differentiate crushes and 'loves') uncle, Umino-san finally manages to catch his voice and starts shrieking again.

"_OUT! OUT! _Gaara, I'll see you tomorrow, _Kakashi, get out right this second before—_eek!" He jumps back with a squeal while Hatake-san looks pleased at getting another good grope, "_KAKASHI!_"

I take one look at Umino-san's murderous glare, Hatake-san's playful smile barely seen under his turtleneck, and the coffee pot boiling over, turn heel, and _run_.

"_HATAKE KAKASHI! _You—you _pervert_! Agh! Get _back here_!"

--

_The room is cold—infinitely cold, biting my skin, my eyes, my open mouth, nibbling against the inside of me as well, my outer walls, my inner walls, my dried-up heart that had long stopped beating… Shukaku is sitting, back arched, on the bed stand, next to the white, crisply folded sheets of the bed I was lying in, and, I suddenly realize where I am: in a hospital._

_My body is moving itself, feet flying upwards in a swoop towards the ground, my mind screaming—no, no, no, no, no, not a hospital, no, no, no, get me out of here! no, no, no—my physical heart beating in my chest as I try to unlock the door, but it's glued shut. Shukaku is still silent as more feelings sweep through my head, my heart, my soul, fear, phobia? no it's just fear, fear of being caught, fear of being trapped, fear of being controlled as I cling to the windowsill—no, no, no, no, not a hospital, no—and start to scream._

_Suddenly the door slams open, waves of harshness hitting me in tons, flinging me hard against the chilling floor, a towering being hovering over me screaming, "Shut up! Shut the fuck up you fucking asshole! Shut up!" Each word is accented with a piercing kick to my side, though the pain was only physical. That was ok. I was used to physical pain. I am mesmerized by the shining being above me, however, and I'm thinking—is he a god?—as he keeps kicking me, muttering about frickin' crazy newbies who thought they could just do as they damn please, the light highlighting the outer edge of his lean figure. I'm whimpering and Shukaku is still sitting silently on the stand, not moving, not breathing, not _living_, and I am scared, so scared, scared, scared, scared, afraid, not a hospital, no, no, no, scared because he's never frozen up before._

"_Why are you doing that?" I whimper at him but the raccoon won't move, piercing yellow eyes caught in time, mouth open in a joyless smile, and a wave of nausea hits me, for some reason, not just a physical nausea, but internally too, my mind shouting out—get away, get away, crawl out the window, hurry, hurry, leave him behind—and the being above me is saying something, but I can't hear him. Can't hear him, like I couldn't hear Mother speaking to me as her life drained away from her face, her body, her toes, every living aspect of her dissipating into what some people may call 'Heaven' because I am sure, absolutely sure, that she is there. _

"_What the fuck are you talking about? Jeez, you're so cliché, talking to yourself. Great, we got another damn schizophrenic on our hands, _god_, don't you guys just _shut up_ for once? Well? WELL?" _

_I open my mouth and scream. And scream. And scream so loud my ears are ringing, the being is kicking me, my empty heart shredding itself apart, the scene around me falling, Shukaku laughing besides me, and the image of the being caught in what must have been a photograph above me, blonde hair fading away from my sight._

"STOP SCREAMING!"

_And the world falls away._

--

This morning, Itachi left and Temari came back. It was a pleasant switch.

"I've _finally_ got Dei to let me sleep over his place!" Itachi was screaming at me while I attempted to brush my teeth in the mirror and glare at him at the same time, "so I guess this is _farewell_!" He leans over my shoulder and my irises follow him suspiciously, "Yeah, so I was a little crazy on Thursday, 'cause I was drunk. I get kind of insane when my little fish goes off to some state far away—I always end up thinking he's cheating on me or something." He pouts, "And yeah. I see Naru-chan's paying more attention to you now, which is good. Otouto's getting pissed, but he's always pissed about something." Suddenly a wicked smile flits across his features and his expression changes into one of utter seriousness, "Yeah, so are you planning to take the little fluff-ball on another date any time soon? If you do, I promise I'll anything I can to help you. I'm a pretty good guy, most of the time, and I'll make sure Otouto keeps away from him." His face flits to one of 'playfulness' again. I bend over to spit the toothpaste-foam out of my mouth and suddenly feel a hard pinch nab my bottom. I whirl around in an unrivaled fury and Itachi, who was smart, quickly takes his duffel bag and runs out the bathroom, out the door, "Ok, Gaara, bye!"

I consider chasing him and socking him in the face. Ditching the idea because it would both ruin my reputation and cause everyone within eyesight to see me in my boxers, I am satisfied with just glaring at my toes and gritting my teeth.

"Kankuro," I say in a gravely monotone when I pass him thirty minutes later, hair damp from a shower and wearing a dark burgundy tang-top, "Clean up the kitchen and bedrooms; Temari's coming back today." He groans and turns his back to me, looking out one of the few windows we had, facing the forest that grew in bursts behind us.

"Agh! I forgot! Ugh, Ne-chan's going to _kill_ me if she finds out I've been sleeping with Miki… Pan…and Papori, or whatever her name is…"

"Put a lid on it," I snap at him as I make my way into the kitchen, about to attempt to do something I've never tried to do before, "I already told her."

"_WHAT_?!" is the response I get and the response I ignore. I stand on my tip-toes as I reach up and snag the oil canister from the top cabinet, place it on the off-white, stained kitchen counter, and opened the refrigerator door. _I can do this_, I say calmly as I finally find the eggs and take out six, large brown ones from the box and placing it next to the oil, _it's not hard._ After locating the cheese, the milk carton and a frying pan, I am almost totally ready.

"Gaara! Where'd you put my frickin'—what are you _doing_?" Kankuro stops at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at the eggs, the cheese, the milk and all the other things I've taken out of the cabinets. He stares harder. "Are you… _cooking_?" I don't bother to satisfy him with an answer.

"Get me an apron." I order and he, like a dog, obediently does what I say. Usually his obedience is marred by complaints or mutterings, but I assume he is too shocked to even let a '_aw, dammit_' escape from his lips. "Now go away." I glare at him after he hands me the offending piece of cloth and he immediately flees to the safety of his room, so he didn't have to see me in an _apron_.

Yes, Kankuro, it is just _so_ terrifying seeing Gaara in an _apron_.

I tie the thing around my waist, happy to find that it was plain and simple, no frills, no color, no design, just a plain, thick piece of white cloth covering the front of my body from the oil and eggs, and put the frying pan on the stove.

I recite the instructions over and over in my brain as my body acts accordingly—_place pan on stove, turn heat on 'high'. Pour desired amount of oil into pan—_our family wasn't an exactly junky kind of family (if you can call it a family), Kankuro being a just-eat-the-food-and-get-out-of-here kind of guy, Temari, a health freak, and me, a picky enough eater as it is. I add a dab of oil onto the pan.

_Crack six eggs into a bowl—_I go fetch a bowl—_and whisk with either a whisk or a fork_—I do, and the thing spills a little onto my apron. Brow furrowing, I grit my teeth and continue to mix it until it was sun-yellow and goopy.

_Add desired amount of milk for creaminess and stir­—_I stop and consider, again, our family's tastes. Out of us Sabaku siblings, Temari and Kankuro both put cream in their tea, while I liked milk in mine. None of us liked sugar. After processing this information, I take the milk carton and generously pour some into the yellow-egg mixture.

I stir it until it turns a light shade of pastel yellow and continue—_Oil should be bubbling by now. Pour mixture into pan and take a spatula—_grab a spatula—_and let concoction sit until firm enough to lift without problem. Take cheese and place desired amount of cheese onto egg_. I take three slices of the cheese (I was getting sick of the 'desired' this and 'desired' that) and pile it on top of the bubbling egg-mass. A spark of pain runs through my finger and I instinctively bring it to my mouth, realizing that I had just been _burned_ by the freaking _pan_. I glare at the pan.

_Fold egg over, enveloping the cheese. Wait for egg to completely cook through and then place onto plate. Wait for a minute before serving. Feeds two to three people—serve hot. _

I finish placing the omelet onto a plate. I admire my work.

It _looked_ like an omelet, _smelled_ like an omelet and, hopefully, _tasted_ like one too.

"Have you burnt the house down yet?" Kankuro hollers from his room and I ignore him. Gingerly lifting the plate the entrée sat on, I place it onto the kitchen table, put away the ingredients, place all the dirtied pans and plates into the sink for Kankuro to wash later and throw off my apron.

"Kankuro," I order loudly, heading down the hallway and stopping in front of the closed door leading to his room. "Come out and eat breakfast."

There is silence, before my brother cracks open the door a sliver, looking at me suspiciously. "Did you poison it?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"_Kankuro_," I growl menacingly and he hastily skitters out of his room and into the kitchen.

"Fantastic! A work of art! Beautiful!" He shouts sarcastically, taking a seat, and I can feel my temper at its peak. Before I can properly take the still-hot spatula from the sink and beat him across the head with it, however, the door flies open and Temari, every cow-girl freckle-face inch of her, stomps in.

"Guys!" she says in a tone that said what-were-you-up-to? "I'm _back_!" Easily kicking off the hide-boots she was wearing and setting her hat upon an old hat rack none of us had ever used because none of us wore hats (except for now), she drops a bag of stuff next to the doorway and stares at what I made on the table. "What's that?"

Kankuro immediately jabs a finger in my direction. "He made it."

She stares at me hard. "…Gaara?" I just aim an equally fierce glare back at her. She is totally, maddenly silent, pulling a chair up to the table and looking at the omelet. We all stare at each other, Kankuro at Temari, Temari at me, me at Kankuro. It's suffocating.

"…well?" Temari shouts, suddenly, causing us brother so jump, "Are you going to cut it into thirds?" Kankuro hastily fumbles with a knife he'd pulled from the cabinets, trying to cut the thing, but he's holding the knife wrong. "No, no, no, cut it with the teeth side, the _teeth_!" After Temari finishes screaming at Kankuro and Kankuro finally gets the omelet to resemble something like hardened piss (ok, not really, but his cutting is messy), we stare at it again.

I glare at my siblings—weren't they going to try some of my food? I mean, _I_ had to suffer with their lack of culinary skills long enough to deserve some of their time spent choking on _my_ food as well. They glance at each other, then back at the omelet, and then back at each other.

"…you first."

"No, you."

"Really, I insist."

"You _are_ the oldest, so you deserve first bite…"

"No, really…"

I can feel my brow ticking. "It's _not_ poisoned," I spit, "it won't _kill_ you!" They glance at each other again, uneasily. I stand up this time, determined to make an impression. Placing a hand on my hip and leaning across the table, I widen my eyes so the white gleamed all around my jade irises, "EH?!"

They jump.

"Hm, delicious!" Temari says, sweating as she stuffs the omelet into her mouth.

"Absolutely!" Kankuro agrees with her shrilly, as I settle back in my chair with a smirk.

"Yum!" They both shout at the same time, rubbing their stomachs with a fake grin plastered across their faces, "That was _good_!" And, before I can see them turn green, they run out of the room and lock themselves in the bathroom.

Ha. I feel _so_ evil.

--

The next day everything was, in the loosest sense of the phrase, 'back to normal'. If you count waking up to my siblings' squabbling every morning with your sister screaming about the stupid phone bill and your brother hollering back that it was all _my_ fault, even though I haven't touched the phone in weeks, 'normal'. After the usual breathy question 'should I get up and go to school or stay in bed and sleep until I die?' is answered and done with, I slowly crawl out of my bed like some mutated slug and drag myself to the bathroom.

"Look here! Long-distant calls! Over to… Maine! London! Tokyo! Africa? Kankuro, _what were you doing_?" Temari is shrieking shrilly in the kitchen, hands holding up a long bill, shoving it into Kankuro's oversized nose.

"I keep telling ya!" Kankuro shouts back, hand desperately attempting to get his face out of the odd-smelling paper, "I'm not the one making the calls!"

"So who was it?" my sister screams as I stare at myself in the mirror, their argument like buzzing flies in my ear. Annoying, but, mostly, harmless. I examine my almost unblemished skin, taunt lips pulled in a slightly downward line, and, to my utter annoyance, dark eye bags that _insisted_ on staying there. "Gaara? He barely calls _anyone_, less _talk_ to them! _Stop lying this instant young man and come here and be RESPONSIBLE_!" I roll my eyes as I carefully unravel the small container of eyeliner I kept inside the medicine cabinet, unscrewing the cap and taking out the small, cool brush attached to its inside. I _would_ feel bad for Kankuro, if I could feel bad for anyone, because I (and everyone within a twenty mile radius of her) _hate_ Temari's 'responsibility' crap she spouts off any moment she could get.

Kankuro says, when he's standing up for her, that she was just being motherly. Well she can screw motherly and live in the slums being a slut for all I care.

I, with precise vigilance that even scares me sometimes, apply a thick line of the black waterproof liquid around my eyes; face perfectly frozen, eyes perfectly still. Years of practice make me grateful that I'm not spilling inky stuff all over myself and sink or onto my face, causing me to look more like a black and white canvas board then anything else, less a properly eye-lined male.

"Emo!" Kankuro screams at me as he passes the bathroom, obviously still angry about the phone bill. I pause in my application to glare at him a moment before finishing the almond-touch the ends of my eyes created. Blinking at myself owlishly—no, not owlishly, more like _deviously_—I wait for the liner to dry before stripping and ducking under the shower curtain.

I never close the bathroom door when I strip. Temari and Kankuro have both seen me run around the house as naked as the day as I was born countless times; there really was no need to hide myself from them. Kankuro would just shout "Gaara, sicko!" if he passed by while I was stripping and Temari would turn her head and close the door for me with a '_click_'.

I was, in Naruto's terms, a big boy now.

After five minutes of chilling cleanliness (I take cold showers for waking-up purposes), I hop out of the shower, rinse myself off (with the red towel. Under _no circumstances_ am I to touch the purple or green towels, because that would end with either me on the floor after having been beaten to death with a pan by Temari or me smelling like sweaty armpits and feeling sticky all day), and carefully step into the kitchen. Temari is back to dressing like her normal self, a purple tee shirt and some white Capris, along with slippers, and is muttering to herself about damn brothers who thought that money grew on trees and how they never really appreciated her and she never should have come back in the first place. A plate of burnt scrambled eggs sat next to her.

"I can cook better then that," I say blankly, and she just gives me _the_ _dirty look_. I peer at the clock—7:10—and hurriedly take a scoopful of egg and place it into my mouth. My face pinches into one of disgust.

"Get your own plate," Temari says irritably as she finally decides to just ignore the bill and threw it onto the kitchen counter, forgotten until the bill company calls to threaten to disconnect our line (they've done it many times when Temari's, Kankuro's and my jobs were not sufficient enough to pay for anything), "It's not like we have a shortage of plates as well." She means, _as well as money_.

"Too troublesome," I quote Shikamaru, stuff another two spoonfuls of the disgusting yellow mush that tasted like charcoal into my mouth, drop my spoon into the sink and head back into my room to look for something sufficient to wear. After blankly staring at my clothes in my wardrobe for about five minutes, I give up, tug on a tee-shirt with some logo on it I don't bother to look at, a black and burgundy jacket over it, some black pants and a beanie. Yes, a beanie.

"Is that a beanie?" Kankuro asks, stuffing a bagel into his mouth (he'd found a moldy package at the back of the pantry and neither Temari nor me was willing to eat any of it) as I pass him by in the hallway. I just give him a look that said _no duh, loser_, and stalk past him, effortlessly slinging my overweight maroon pack over my shoulder and heading out the door.

"Gaara!" Temari shouts from her room, "Did you bring your lunch? Your planner? Your homework? _Oh my god, did you remember to bring the condoms?!" _I want to smack her. Why would I want to bring condoms to school? It's not like I was going to have sex with anyone, especially in a _public environment_, as I had almost no libido at all and wasn't really interested in that kind of stuff in the first place anyways. I chose to just ignore her stupidity, walk down the stairs, and off to school.

I arrive about ten minutes early and immediately meet up with Neji, who was dressed up in a normal turtleneck and white pants and was blowing a bubble with his bubble gum. He was also equipped with a three-hundred page book that he used to whack me with when I approached him.

I just stare at him with a _what-the-frick'-I'm-gonna-kill-you_ look glinting in my eyes. Neji, who huffily takes out his trusty white with gold fringed bookmark out of his pocket and carefully marks his place in the book, towers over me such a furious anger that even I didn't even know what I've done wrong.

"You," he growls, hands suddenly digging into my shoulders, shaking me, "didn't kiss him _again_, hm?"

I stare at him.

I stare at him harder.

"Uh… yes…"

This seems to put him in a greater fury. Hauling me up by my jacket, he hisses, "I heard you went on your frickin' _second date_ and you have not done _either_ of the following: kissed the living daylights out of him _or_ confessed your love!" He pulls me up closer so we're almost eye-to-eye, "_How long are you going to be a coward_?"

All this time I have been blankly staring at him because my brain hasn't totally comprehended the fact that Neji was lifting me up two inches above the floor and that he was yelling at me because of _my_ relationship with _Naruto_. But, before I can react at this conclusion by taking his hand and whamming him onto the concrete, said blonde pops up out of nowhere behind me.

"Yay! Good morning, guys! Um… what time is it Sasuke?"

"7:23," the dark haired youth says, curtly. Naruto just nods bouncily.

"Seven minutes 'till class! How you all feeling?"

"Bored." Sasuke.

"Furious." Neji.

"Blank." Me.

They all stare. I glare back.

"Chipper!" Naruto finishes it off, and Neji lets go of my jacket and leans down, hair spilling over his shoulder as he whispers into my ear.

"You better go for it soon." He straightens up effortlessly, toss his hair back and smoothly walk down the hallway to his neck class with the noble 'clink, clink' of his shoes echoing behind him. I glare at him from over my shoulder. What was he, my counselor? Plus, Neji giving pep talks was weird. _Very_ weird.

After saying farewell to Naruto and Sasuke (Sasuke looking very pleased as the blonde hooks onto his arm and dragged them to their PE class; me, dissatisfied), I stumble on with my day.

Die almost out of sheer boredom in Writing. Stare at my Spanish-sensei and wonder if it was _legal_ to smoke in a public environment. Throw notes at Naruto during Trigonometry and secretly make fun of Sasuke's apparent interest in Sakura (Naruto thankfully agrees with me that Sakura is a pink-haired slut that needs to be punctured many, many times). Try to pay attention in World History and just end up getting a detention for sleeping in class (like I'm going to do detention anyways; no one ever does and the teachers really don't care). Try not to crack up in Drama while Neji struts about the stage wearing mascara, blush, and eyeliner bellowing out random chords about _love_ and _peace_ and _being a prostitute_. Have lunch. _Have lunch_.

"Chicken Teriyaki!" Naruto smiles cheerfully as he carefully places the Styrofoam plate onto the table seat next to mine, casually scooting in between Sasuke and I. Thus, leaving Neji all by himself on the other side of the table.

He just aims a dirty look at us. "Thanks guys."

"No problem!" Naruto responds, then leans my way and whispers, "I try." I don't know if this is normal but as he leans closer I want to reach over and _eat_ his hair. It just looks so _alluring _all of a sudden, like a scrumptious, fluttering piece that looked and imaginably tasted sweet.

Weird.

Neji just huffs indignantly and returns to thoughtfully chewing his chicken alfredo, which he eats _every week_, and is apparently made by his kind-hearted cousin, whose name I can't remember. She is, without doubt, noted for her mad kitchen skills.

The cafeteria is a spacious place to be in. Random thought, but true. The ceilings stretched high above our heads, dozens of poles and wires holding random shapes about. Three levels of eating area were provided—freshman and sophomores often sat on the lowest level, near the entrance, we juniors huddled together on the smaller, but higher, level, and the seniors, the kings of the hill. Plain light blue walls enclose the eating area while a thick blue gate separates the place where the food is served and the place where the food is eaten. People like Neji and Sasuke carry their own lunches, Neji because, as I said before, his cousin makes his lunches and Sasuke because Itachi made _his_ lunches. Naruto and I, unfortunately, are stuck with the less appetizing school meal (Naruto not because he couldn't afford it like me, but because his Aunt Tsunade and Uncle Jiraiya didn't believe in wasting time making him a lunch that he wouldn't eat anyways).

Now that I think of it, I still have to tell Temari and Kankuro about the will, right? But then, I better tell them after I finish my sessions with Umino-san, because only then would I be able to even _touch_ the Sabaku fortune. Oh well. (Money would definitely make life a heck of a lot easier, but then, looking at Neji, Sasuke, and Naruto, definitely less fun).

I hesitantly poke the slimy, rowan-colored slab of meat and look at Naruto for confirmation of its tastelessness. The blonde, despite the cheerful grin plastered on his face, looks pained. I take it as _the-food-is-horrible_ and sigh. Suddenly, a question that had been floating in my head comes into being and out of my mouth (an annoying habit I must have picked up from Naruto. Why do I keep on picking up bad habits?)

"Neji, are you top or bottom?"

Sasuke spits out his food, Naruto goggles and Neji just stares.

And stares.

And stares, until slowly a faint dusting of pink first appears on cheeks, deepening to a more of a dark maroon, then, the dam breached, crimson flooding through his whole face until he has to hide it in his sleeve to prevent himself from being mistaken for a tomato. He makes a sort of strangled noise, straightens up a little, then collapses.

We wait for him to get up, but he doesn't. Naruto, being the naturally curious being he is, cautiously pokes the older boy in the arm.

"Uh," he says uncertainly, glancing at me a moment. "Did you kill him?"

I just glare at him, then turn towards the other two. "He didn't answer my question."

Sasuke looks bored, adjusting his dorky navy headband (I want to snap that thing off) and says, flatly, "He's bottom." This, Neji shoots up and, face still a heavy crimson, he tries to stammer out something incomprehensible, looks flustered, and, finally, turns his back to us so we can't see his face. We, however, can still see him sulking.

"Aw," Naruto giggles, exchanging a stealthy look with Sasuke (over me, which pisses me off, sort of) "Don't like it that you're taking it up the a—"

Neji, who was sitting directly in front of Naruto, turns around swiftly and kicks him under the table. Naruto stops, yelping, and the boy turns his back to us again.

"Anyways," he continues matter-of-factly, as if he wasn't sulking and giving us the cold shoulder because we were plainly discussing too in-depth his sex life, "Are you guys going to Sakura's party tonight?"

"She's having a party tonight?" Naruto and I chorus, him, surprised, me, monotone. Sasuke just looks like he's heard this all before. Neji turns his head back enough to let us see the very side of his eye and cheek. His face is still beet red.

"Uh-huh. It's a free-for-all; anyone in our grade level can come. It's pretty tight, though," he takes his thermos and spun it open, as if drinking water would calm his nerves along with talking, "No alcohol, no drugs, no sex, no nothing unless Sakura says so. You know you serious she can get when she really wants to be." Naruto and Sasuke nod while I just look a little blank. I didn't know her very well. Hell, I hated her. Why would I want to go to her party?

"Gaara!" Naruto chirps, hand casually swinging over my shoulder, locking me up next the crick between his neck and shoulder, "You going? I'm going for sure—if the rest of the guys are there, why not?"

I am _definitely_ going to that party.

"Hn." is my answer, which the rest of the group takes as a 'oh my gosh I am so excited I'm definitely coming count me in!' I have no idea what's going to go on at the party, but, hell, I _wasn't_ going to let a chance like this slip by (I think Neji's pep talks are getting to me…)

--

"PEPSI!"

"COKE!"

"_PEPSI!_"

"I'm telling you for the last damn time, it's _coke_!"

I walk in with Kankuro and Temari in tow (they both _insisted_ on following me to my first high school party to keep me 'safe'. I know they're lying through their teeth, though—they just want to have some fun), dressed in a bright red long-sleeve and white pants (me, not emo? It's the end of the world!) and plastic grocery bag in my hand. My sister hollered at me all morning that if I'm going to a party I need to at least be courteous to bring something and how I _couldn't_ bring condoms because that would be rude and_ what are you going to do with condoms anyways, Gaara? I think Kankuro and I should go with you_. Agh, stupid siblings.

So anyways, we walk in to see Kiba and Naruto having a screaming match on the couch about the insides of the cups they were holding. Oddly, someone had torn the label off the bottle and basically just left it with a bunch of white sticker-streaks filled with dark, brown-colored liquid. Thus, leading up to Naruto and his conversation.

"Gaara!" Naruto shouts when he sees me, stumbling to try to get up from the couch and to my side without spilling any of his Pepsi/Coke while Temari and Kankuro sort of diffused into the crowd, "Does this taste like Pepsi or Coke?"

"It's _coke_!" Kiba shouts hotly from his seat on the couch, sipping his own drink huffily while his friend, the boy-with-bugs, just watches him, slightly amused. Before I can even protest a little, Naruto's shoving the cup into my mouth while I choke. After one taste of the liquid, I flail in agony and run to the bathroom, bile suddenly seeping into my mouth as I look at the toilet longingly.

"It's Pepsi!" Naruto says triumphantly while I gag, coughing up foam because I really had nothing to eat all today except for that awful Pepsi-thing, "Gaara hates Pepsi but he doesn't mind coke! Ha! I win!"

If Naruto was any other guy I'd strangle him for using me like that. _Stupid taste, tastes like socks soaked in fermented beer…_

I come back after washing my face and trying to look expressionless, nodding at Naruto who immediately envelops me in a friendly hug (the hair… I want to eat the hair… mm…) and spotting Neji at the back of the crowd talking to Temari. Slightly curious and annoyed that one of my friends was striking up conversation with my _sister_, I slowly head in their direction, but to no avail.

"Hey, it's volcano boy!" A high-pitched voice squeals a little above me, and suddenly my face is caught in between two large, _bouncing_, um…"assets". "Good! You came too! Hey Ino Pig, come here, look at our cute guest!" She turns around and I get a brief glimpse of bright pink hair and a red dress before I am… caught… again. Her skinny limbs are draped over my shoulder and head and all I can think is _get this out of my face, get this out of my face, get your frickin' boobs out of my face!_

"Whaaaaaaat? Even little Sabaku-chan decided to come to our _wonderful_ party eh?" Suddenly I am released when pink-haired girl and gold-mascara girl clap hands and squeal, "This is going to be the best party _ever_!"

Yeah, whatever, as long as I'm not molested or beat up by the time I'm done here today. Trying to smooth out my ruffled hair and withhold myself from ripping pink-haired girl's head off, I shoulder past Chouji (who is wearing a 'my name is Chouji' on his shirt, just in case you're wondering how I managed to remember another name) and Shikamaru, who kept glancing at Temari worriedly out of the corner of his eye. I don't know if he was worried about her, or himself.

"—so I was thinking that maybe you can take him there tomorrow?" Temari is saying when I stop about two feet away from her, pathetically hiding behind a decorative bush. As I'd busted out a little more then what I had been when I first started high school (I shot from a little over a hundred pounds to… a hundred twenty? Damn, I'm fat) I was more then noticeable. Shikamaru keeps giving me weird looks.

"I see." Neji looks a little worried, because he's started fiddling with his charm necklace again, "Are you sure it's alright? You know, he might get pissed…" Temari's violently shaking her head.

"No, no, he'll love it; it'll be real good for him. Please? I'll pay for it, but maybe you can also get the other two to go along with you?" Neji sighs and nods. My blonde sibling squeals, clapping her hands together, and hurriedly thank him. They start walking away and I start coming out of my "hideout" when I hear Temari say, "Sometimes I can't believe it you know? He's really changed over the years… he's nothing like the insane murderer I'd known for so long before…"

I stop cold.

Really? Did…Temari really think that?

Before I can get lost in another _Gaara-is-silent-because-he's-thinking-so-don't-interrupt_ phase, Naruto's loud voice overpowers all conversations that had been (previously) taking place, "_TRUTH OR DARE! YAH!_"

I open my eyes wide.

_What_?

I'm thinking the exact same thing when Naruto pulls me over and plops me onto a fuzzy pink polyester cushion lined up with many others in a circle, so all the guests were facing one another. Neji sat at my other side, long hair pulled in a tight ponytail and wearing a nice white-collared shirt. I always make a point in noticing his clothes; out of all of us (Naruto, Sasuke and I) he probably had the most variety. A whole lot of other people gather around as well, though I won't even bother to list them all because I don't know most of their names anyways.

Pink-haired girl (Naruto kept telling me _Sakura_) is giggling, holding a cup of sparkling apple cider, "Tee Hee! So this is _my_ party and so we'll all, like, play truth or dare? 'Cause, its like, the coolest thing in the world! So, like, do you all know the rules?" Before anyone can answer gold-mascara girl (_Ino_, Naruto hisses) waves her hand up wildly.

"Me! Me!"

"Ino Pig!"

"Okay pipsqueaks," The girl shouts loudly, raising her arms up above her head, "This is how it goes! We have this bottle over here,"

"Bottle!" Sakura yells, holding up a wine bottle.

"And, like, the first person, me, is gonna spin it and all. And, whoever it lands on, I ask, 'truth, dare, or double dare?' and then that person has got to, like, choose one. Truth is you ask a personal question and they have to, like, tell the truth,"

"Truth!" Sakura yells again, this time holding up a pile of cards.

"Uh, and, if you can't come up with a question, Big Forehead and I stayed up all last night making up cards you can pick from to, like, ask. Um, dare, is, well, daring someone to do something."

"Dare!" The pink-haired girl holds up another pile of cards.

"And, yeah, like we did the same thing with the dare, so huh. And double dare is just basically asking two dares and the person gets to, like, choose which one the want."

"Double Dare!" Sakura looks pained because of all the jumping around on a full stomach. "Ah, just pick two dares from the dare pile, heh, heh…"

"Oh, and, like, if you don't do a dare, then you have to..."

"Kiss the person that asked you!" Sakura says triumphantly.

"And, so, like, that's how it goes. Um, hey Big Forehead, how many rounds should we go?"

"Rounds!" Sakura holds up some pink colored tabs, "So, like, every time you're picked, take a tab. Um, we should do, like um, five rounds, looking at all these people. So when you get five tabs, um, you don't play anymore, so it doesn't go on forever."

"I go first!" Ino shouts and they both squeal like mad women. All this time I've been hiding behind Neji's sleeve (because I didn't want to hide behind Naruto's because I just might _really_ try to eat his hair), and look at the older student pleadingly.

"Do we have to?"

"If you want to preserve your reputation."

"Yosh!" Ino says, quoting a character we all know very well, leaning over so everyone gets a good look of her not-caught-in-a-bra boobs when her tang-top complies to the laws of gravity, "Okay, spin the bottle!" Taking a hold of the bottle neck, she effortlessly spins it and watches as it goes around in dizzying circles, round and round, getting slower…and slower…and… "Shino!"

Bug-boy just looks blank and white. Kiba, who's sitting beside him, pokes his friend. "That's you." Shino just looks a little more rigid.

"Alright, big guy!" Ino giggles, enthusiastically patting her victim on the back, "Truth or dare?"

"Don't forget double dare!" Sakura squeals and the two start laughing together. Sasuke, who is sitting directly opposite me, and I share dry glances.

Shino pushes his round sunglasses up from the bridge of his nose. "Truth."

"Boo!" Naruto shouts, "Coward!"

The taller boy just shrugs, as if it mattered very little to him.

Ino, not to be beaten down by the other's flat 'party pooper' attitude, shouts, "Out of all the girls in this room who would you date, why, and what is the worst possible scenario that can happen?"

Shino doesn't even pause in his answer. "Hinata. Because she's sweet. She gets pregnant with someone else's kid and ends up dropping out of high school and never becoming a teacher, which is her dream." Said Hyuuga girl's face is flushed crimson, though she exchanges odd looks with Kiba, who just sighs and ruffles his hair. Was there some competition going on between those two boys?

"It's 'cause Hinata's one of Shino's closest friends," Naruto explains to me quietly, "And Ino said '_in this room_', so he pretty much had no choice but to choose the girl he was closest to. His real crush's probably somebody else."

"Spin! Spin! Spin! Sp—damn, it's me!" Kiba swears and gives his friend a dirty look. "You did that on purpose!" Shino looks away and adjusts his glasses, looking very, very innocent.

"Truth, Dare, Double Dare?"

"Oh, what the heck," Kiba huffs, "Dare."

"Dare you to get some of that white wine from the cellar, mix it with apple juice, and drink it."

Kiba stares.

Sakura and Ino stare.

Everyone else stares.

Shino doesn't even look the slightest bit perturbed.

Kiba explodes.

"WHAAAAAAAAAT?! I'm not even old enough to drink! And _apple juice_? Are you out of your _mind_?" He screams, taking a hold of bug-boy's shoulders and shaking them, "No way am I going to do that!"

"Then kiss me." Shino says coolly and the other boy looks flabbergasted.

"Ooh!" Naruto croons, "What are you going to do, little Kiba-chan?"

"Argh…fine!" Getting up huffily, he runs into Sakura's kitchen and into the basement to get the wine.

And, in basic terms, that is how the game went.

Kiba drank and gagged while everyone cheered him on, Sakura had to sing a cheesy love song dressed in nothing but her bra and panties, Temari had to kiss me on the nose (I almost bit her), Hinata gave Kiba a lap dance (much to everyone's amusement), Neji had to play a game of strip war with Lee (ending up with Neji's entire upper body exposed and Lee practically naked on the floor), Kankuro had to read aloud an erotic scene from a love novel without blushing or else he'd have to start over (I think all of us turned green after his fifth try), Chouji had to stop eating until the end of the game, and Shikamaru kissed Chouji because he sure as hell wasn't going to take off Temari's clothes and ravish her. Oh, no. That'd be way too troublesome.

It went on, and on, and on, and on like this until, by the fourth round, everyone started calming down and doing more Truth questions because we were all pretty tired. I mean, I've run out into the street screaming 'Boo yah!' until someone saw me, drank a cup of Pepsi (ugh…), and admitted that the reason I didn't still have eyebrows is because I shave it off just for the sake of shaving it off. Ino brought out the snacks and dumped them into a huge plastic bowl in the middle of the circle, next to the bottle. Everyone dug in, except for Chouji, who was looking very, very depressed.

"Hey, Gaara," Ten Squared says, hiccupping because her last dare was to drink nothing but beer for the rest of the night, "Truth, Dare, or Double Dare?"

"Truth," I say, not that anyone would've thought I'd say differently.

"How'd you _hic_ meet up with _hic_ your best _hic_ friends?"

I furrow my brow.

"Um, I first met Neji at a pep rally/assembly thing in middle school but he didn't really start hanging out with Naruto and Sasuke until high school. And… I first met both Sasuke and Naruto in middle school sixth grade when some guy tried to beat me up…" I stop because Naruto is giving me a puzzled look.

"What?" He says, utterly confused, "That's not how we first met!"

"Hm?" I stare. What was he saying? All this time that memory (the one with the bully and the poop and all that…) had always stuck to me because it'd been when I first met Naruto. But he was saying it wasn't?

He's shaking his head.

"You don't remember?"

"…remember what?"

He stops shaking his head, and, with a ferocity he is well known for, looks me straight in the eyes. "You know.

"_Spring Forth Christian Treatment Center."_

Something springs forth and shocks me until I can't seem to move, can't seem to think.

_The room is cold—infinitely cold— my dried-up heart that had long stopped beating… white—Shut up, shut up! you— stand, next—I am: in a hospital—swoop towards the ground, my mind screaming—no, no— as I cling to the windowsill—no, no, no, no— start to scream—no, no, no—_

I stare at him open-mouthed.

And everything comes crashing down around me.

--

Author's Notes: Yeah, slow update (sorry!) I'm just running around trying to tie up a bunch of loose ends I'd referenced in previous chapters... Sorry! Story is getting too confusing and/or boring! Waaaah! (hides in a trash can). Yeah, so for those wondering about the whole Gaara-job-thing its coming up next chapter! And more of Gaara's past is revealed! But what is he hiding? Tune in next time! Waaaaaaaaaaaah! My reviewers are my god/desses! Without them this story would be ten times harder to write. I bow down to you and worship your awesomeness! When (or if) I finish this story I'll be sure to list all reviewers/supporters/ppl who favorited/c2ed/and/or/alerted me in an afterword along with a summary just in case people really didn't get anything when they read this. Thanks! R/R Please? But no flames. Flames are bad 


	13. Name: Sick

I have a very good memory.

Just selective. Very selective.

I often find holes in events that shouldn't have holes in them, gaps were I forget people, things, places because I didn't want to remember, and, maybe, a completely changed memory that is altered because the mind sees what it wants to see and remembers what it wants to remember.

The following are some stripped memories I have with dozens of gaps in between them, and, ultimately, the feeling that something is missing. Something very, very important, something so important that the point of the entire memory is ruined without it.

I just don't know what.

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

_I am a rock._

_A still, cold, rock that was not-quite-ice and not-quite-stone, but a rock, nevertheless. Hunched over on my blankets, white wings protecting me, guarding me, I am furious, so furious at myself and the pain that kept me down. Pain was wrong. I shouldn't be feeling pain. Pain was only something a _weakling_ would feel. Dammit._

_I am a lab specimen. A red-headed, sharp-toothed lab specimen that is poked and prodded and observed through a Plexiglas window encasing me in my hospital-cage. Not only is it chilling cold, it's chilling cold through all levels—mind, body, soul, heart, everything, everything freezing and drying up as I refuse to respond._

"_Gaara, dear?" A voice hovers above me like a wispy tendril, at the back of my mind, hardly a voice at all, "Gaara, you have to get up and eat."_

_Anger. Pulsating anger, rage, wild, beastly urges tearing through my insides as I stiffen._

_There is a momentary pause before I lash out, knock the tray from her and the woman screams, clad in white—what does she think she is, an angel—as Shukaku shrieks, "Chance! Chance!" while I sink my teeth into her exposed arm. I bite hard while she writhes, writhes in agony as I draw blood, then, with a strength I used often, I tore._

_Suddenly I'm limp, a needle at my side and everything starts getting duller and duller, fading away at the edges, doctors swarming into the room to treat the woman, who was still screaming because I tore a chunk of her flesh off and it was lying, a mass of red and pink tissue, limp on the floor. I can still taste the tangy salt flavor from the blood, and I faintly wished I'd eaten some of the flesh before I completely black out._

--

_I don't know how long I've been stuck in this hellhole of a hospital. At first I'd been put in a normal white room with a Plexiglas window, doctors trying to figure out my "problem" and the "extent" it had gone to. The incident with that frickin' nurse thing has sent me chained up in more ways then one, barred inside a dark prison cage with no windows, no doors, no _anything_, just leaving me to rot in the darkness of my heart._

_My cheek is pressed against the cold thinly covered-up concrete, eyes screwed shut as Shukaku whispers, "We'll get out somehow, just wait for them to come, to come, wait so you feed upon the blood, that precious red blood, again, like candy…" It is pitch black. So black the ebony shadows were wriggling into my skin, my heart, clenching it in such a way I know what I feel is fear. Fear of what? Fear of the hospital—no, no, no—fear of the dark, fear of being left alone, fear of… fear of… dammit!_

_I am writhing in my incarcerate of a soul, trying to scramble about, hands grappling at anything that has edge, trying to hold on, hold on, not to fall, no, not to fall…_

_The darkness is too long. I feel myself being flung, flung into the encasement, the hissing words of insanity drawing me into its safe enclosure._

_There is nothing. Darkness clogs up my ears, my nostrils, my eyes, my mouth, can't see, can't breathe, can't _think_. Time is void, null, passed, and I cannot identify._

_Eventually my thoughts turn._

_The black is my friend. Black is what I am used to. It is, in its own way, a haven, a sanctuary. It will never change—black is always black, and, though it's fearful, it is my world, my own world that is in _my_ control, something I can depend on, yes, yes. Snuggling into the folds of my own darkness I am afraid my sanity has permanently gone off the cliff._

_Voices suddenly pierce through my quiet blackness and I snarl like a beast—what the heck do they think they are, invading my domain like this?_

"_A-are you sure?"_

"_It's been a week, I think he's calmed down enough. But get the tranquilizer ready again, not even our best men can stop him once he's on the attack."_

"_O-Okay!" _

_And suddenly I am under attack. Piercing… light? scour my cheeks and I scream for the longest time, eyes tearing, voice bursting out until my throat became hoarse, all the while thinking—my darkness, my precious black, what have you done, you done, to my world, no, give it back, it's mine, no, my black—white burning my eyes, my face, everything about me, searing me to the bone, exposing what I truly am. I am a limp rag as the doctors drag me out of my prison, muttering things about "getting him on treatment" and "hope he behaves himself" while my head still rings of my ebony world._

--

_There is a fat old woman sitting nervously behind a Plexiglas window with a small hole drilled in between us, so we can properly hear each other. My head is bent low, I am slouching, I am the image of a pre-adolescent boy who was going to insist on being horribly rebellious. Shukaku has left me for now and while she tries to talk all I hear is—Shukaku, protect me, guide me, where are you, you frickin' bastard of a raccoon, Shu—while she tries to get me to "open up"._

"_So, Gaara-kun, can you tell me more about your siblings?"_

_I don't answer. Why the hell should I answer prey—all I think about is prey, everything is prey, a victim of my own horrendous intent to murder, everything and anything can be killed, squashed, squeezed until blood is flooding the floor, until blood is in my mouth and in my stomach, so why the heck should I even talk to something I was going to slaughter later on? There would be no point. I am silent._

"_Come on, Gaara, you'll never get better if you refuse to cooperate with us. If you don't answer me we're taking away the bread roll from your dinner."_

_Like hell I care about a stupid bread roll. Food was physical. I was no longer a physical being, I was spiritual, a boy who had overcome his pathetic human body with such power that I was invincible, untouchable, a thing of people's imagination that is no longer connected to his body. My body can rot for all I care, and I can stay here forever. I can die here. That would make sense, as the only thing keeping me living was the _sei_ or living force of other human beings. Because I haven't shed any blood I, my spiritual self, is bound to wither away. That's ok._

_There's no point in living, anyways._

"_Gaara? Gaa—ooh, sessions over! Well, I'll see you in an hour after you have dinner ok?"_

_Fuck you lady. Fuck you._

_--_

"_You'll never escape if you don't talk to them." I am lying on my rotting cot, thoughts swimming about—who I should kill, blood, damn I'm still in a hospital, stupid psychiatrists I hate them all, I need to get out of here, no I don't need to get out of here, I want to live, I want to die—when I am interrupted by a soft, familiar voice._

_I slowly turn my head to see a boy, around my age, dressed in a white t-shirt with a swirly design on it, blonde hair stuck up in a just-got-of-bed fashion, body looking casual though cold blue eyes saying otherwise. It is the being that had been kicking me. My god._

_I just watch him out of the corner of my eye. He is the enemy. He is my victim. I will kill him; rip him limb to limb, blood flowing everywhere, his screams piercing the night, the darkness, loud as I crush him. I refuse to answer him._

_He doesn't look phased, or even exasperated, unlike those doctor bastards._

"_They'll just keep you here until you 'improve'. They're all that way. I know you don't talk. That's ok. Everyone says it's because you're a wild beast with the brain of a fly, but I can see it in your eyes—you just don't _want_ to talk, right? You're not dumb." He presses his face onto the Plexiglas, "There's rumors going around about you, you know. 'The new kid'. Newbie. Damn, to think that you spent your whole first day screaming your head off… that was real annoying. Did you lose your voice screaming? Is that why you're not talking?"_

_I continue to stare at him—Shukaku has not returned, my head and heart is split into a thousand shattered pieces, I am staring, staring, staring as this golden god is talking to me, lips moving up and down, a being that I cannot touch, though I want to kill him, murder him, shred him… an inner me, the soft Gaara, the one that says "Stop it! Stop it!" while I carry on my duties, is still convinced that this boy is a god, an almighty omnipotent being that I should serve and be obedient to._

"_Shut up," I tell Soft Gaara, and, being without a backbone, that aspect of my already shaky character vanishes._

"_Oh? You said something!" The boy is even more interested, "You want me to shut up? Well… too bad! I'm non-stop-talk Naruto! _No one_ can shut me up! Anyways, is it true you bit off a nurse's arm? And that you _actually_ spent a _week_ in the punishment room? _No one_ has ever spent a week in there! Most of the time it's just an hour or so when you misbehave, but a WEEK! No wonder you're so messed up! The doctors here are all crappy losers, except for Iruka-san, but I only see him at lunch now… Hey! Say something again! Please?"_

_I stare at him. He stares back. Shukaku, I shriek aloud, desperate, where are you? Here, a voice slithers through my thoughts, but I'm afraid you'll have to deal with this alone, cub._

_And suddenly power pushes out from my mouth, and, before I know it, I am screaming again, blankets flying everywhere as I ram, suddenly, into the Plexiglas, sending non-stop-talk Naruto back in surprise, screaming bloody murder as I beat my fists against the window, thoughts swirling, defiantly, out of Soft Gaara—I don't want to die, I want to live, I want to get out of here, I want to be normal, got to get out, get out, get out—and doctors and scrambling about, wondering what is up with the ever so silent Gaara, screaming his head off._

"_You! Uzamaki! What are you doing here?"_

"_Crud!" The blonde hisses, ducking quickly behind a corner of the hall, "See you tomorrow Gaara! I like you! You're fun!"_

"_Go away, look what you've done to Gaara—you know he's our worst case, you probably just got rid of weeks of work—get back here!"_

"_Wah!" I can barely see him, my vision is starting to get cloudy as sudden pain bursts into my throat, into my mouth and blood is everything, blood is red and dripping and everything I see is in red._

"_Gaara! Damn! Get the doctor!"_

_Everything I see is in red._

_--_

_I want to die. I want to live. Two conflicting thoughts writhing inside my body as I stay, helpless, in bed. I hear a tap on my window. I don't bother to look, don't bother to stand, to live, to breathe, don't bother to even give a damn to whatever is going on outside this hospital. I can't remember life outside this place. I wonder if the memories of a house, of downtown Suna, of Temari and Kankuro are just all frilly dreams in my head, and if I'd spent my entire life here being some specimen to poke and examine and to shout at for not talking. The tap is louder._

"_Pst!" I still don't look, though I imagine whoever it was it'd probably be the blonde god from some time ago. Time is lost here—it can go backwards, forwards, stand still—all these, wonderful things that I am so fascinated with, a part of me that detaches itself whenever that fat woman still comes to talk to me, wondering who controls time. "Gaara! Over here! Hello? Hey! You won't look at me! Gaara!"_

_The tapping stops. I am staring at the crusty popcorn ceiling, shifting dustily to-and-fro as people from the upper level rampage through their halls. It is harder to be insane and yet so easy to in the same time. After a while, you just run out of things to think about. The silence is so heavy and thick I am sure that the god has dissipated again, probably off to Mount Olympus or Heaven or some other beautiful place like that, where Mother and Mom were, probably. Sometimes I wish I can ask him to tell them I was sorry because I was sure as hell not going to heaven._

"_What are you in here for?"_

_The question is so sudden, so piercing, I lift my head to see the blonde again, this time dressed in an orange t-shirt and another swirly on it, cheek cupped in his hand, staring at me. I am vaguely and pathetically jealous over the fact that he can choose his own clothes—every morning doctors strap me down to some sort of device and put some sort of gag in my mouth to prevent me from biting more arms off of people and latch a gray skirt-thing over my struggling body. _

"_Are you going to kill him yet?" Shukaku whispers quietly, curling his tail around my face as he stalks his prey, me, "All you have to do is reach into to that hole in the glass and pull his head towards you until it bursts…"_

_I ignore him. The sunshine being was part of my safe routine, a guarantee, something that would be sure to come every day. He is my walking, talking human calendar and he was _mine_. Mine, such a confusing word, something I can barely comprehend, though it rings inside my head and ghosts over my skin—mine, mine, mine, he is the only thing I can cling to here besides Shukaku, mine…_

_He's been coming for four days already, most of the time to just squat and stare at me. Everything had to be neat. Everything had to fit. Time had to always work—there had to be a pattern of getting up, sitting in bed, refusing to come out until a doctor comes and drags me out and onto a bench, listen to fat woman, go back to bed, get dragged out again, listen more to fat woman, go back to bed, see blonde, have dinner, the only thing I'd eat and I ate sparingly, go to bed and stare at the wall, not sleep, get up, all over again._

_Doctors soon found out I was extremely intolerable to food. I didn't eat. I grew paler, weaker, skinnier, just a rag of bones tied up by loose, whitening skin. I liked my rag of bones, but, evidently, the frickin' _doctors_ didn't._

_They wanted me to hook up to an IV. I snarled and actually managed to get a finger when they tried to approach me with a needle in their hands._

_I just stare quietly at the boy, mind suddenly ceasing. Time has done its miracles again, ceasing time, ceasing Shukaku, who was caught in mid sentence, shutting down first thoughts, second thoughts, third thoughts, until my head is all quiet, silent, without restlessness. _

"_Ah, I already know what you're in for, anyways. It's in the files at the front office; easy to nick, and easy to read. You kill people? And you got into here because you are 'criminally insane'. Or was it 'clinically insane'?" He leans forward and blows onto the glass, clear sheet fogging up a moment before fading. "Can you cure insanity? What are the doctors working on you for? Do they think you have some other disorder? Some other thing? Is that why they prod you?"  
_

_I am silent._

_He smiles._

"_You know, if you don't like being force-fed and tied down to a chair and observed and lectured to by a psychiatrist, you should make more an effort to get out of here." His face brightens up a little, "And once you start getting better, you can come live in my wing! You'll like it better then here, I promise! No Plexiglas or anything; looks just like an apartment and all, and you get to have your meals with the other patients here. So you got to try harder, Gaara! Do you seriously want to get pushed around forever?"  
_

_Pushed Around? Forever? Suddenly my mind is whirling again, time is flying backwards and forwards at the same time, Shukaku suddenly that aspect of me, the soft Gaara, screaming "Don't want to be controlled, stop, get out, get out, live, live, why won't you listen, stop it!" until there is such endless chaos in my head I say, aloud, "Huh."_

_The being squeals a little, "You spoke! You spoke again! Yay! Do it again! Again!"_

_But my brief moment of sanity has passed. I am a rock, a cold ice cube, a vegetable, a specimen. I say nothing and turn my head stiffly away from him._

"_What? Gaara! C'mon! Do it again! I like your voice! It's cute! No? That's not the right word? Okay… it's sexy! Speak! Aw, damn…" _

_He is one voice of many. They are all colliding in my brain, scolding me, yelling at me, Soft Gaara, Hard Gaara, No-feeling Gaara, all screaming for their thoughts to be heard, all shrieking for their souls to be possessed._

_I make a promise to myself, in the folds of the folds in my mind, dark and pitch black, voices curling with insanity and giddiness. One promise, out of the smashed mounds of broken ones, a new set of words I am determined to keep._

_I'm not going to stay here. I am going to get out of here, no matter what, and _nothing in anyone's power _is going to stop me._

_--_

_The psychiatrist is getting exasperated. At first she attempted the 'I am silent and waiting for the patient to speak' method, but, after a significant while, it became apparent that I was not about to open my mouth any time soon. Then she tried the 'ask a bunch of questions and hope for the patient to answer' method, which, in the end, was an even worse idea then the silent mode. After that, she went into a frenzy of 'try a bunch of different methods and god help it if the patient responds' deal, which I had to painfully drag myself through. _

"_What do you see?"_

_It's a frickin' inkblot with dots and patterns splattered everywhere. It was mortifyingly hideous and I just glare at it. Seeing as the paper is not willing to melt, I aim my soul-piercing glare at the psychiatrist, who flinches and attempts a faux smile that makes Shukaku along with everything else in my head scream—liar, cheater, crazy, insane, she's trying to kill, kill you, blood, no, get out of here, liar, fraud—and she slowly puts down the card._

"_Um… ok, let's try this. Here's a photograph. What do you see?"_

_I burn a hole through the Kodak image. I do not respond. She is whimpering._

"_Um… well… er… I guess I'll have to close the session. Gaara, if you still refuse to respond we will… we will…" She is desperate. I seem to have an apparent apathy to everything—food, darkness, women, men, people in general, animals, stories… nothing can get me to react, thus, nothing can be used as punishment. She finally throws up her hands in frustration and stomps away in her little psychiatrist way. _

_I slither off the wooden chair I was forced to sit in until the end of the session and crawled across the floor. I am like a large, mucus-creating slug, so ugly to look at, bags around my eyes from insomnia and sleep deprivation, something to squash, something to smash, something to point and say 'Hey Mommy, can I kill it?' I writhe around the floor for a while, placing my ear onto the carpet and hearing—escape, escape, sing, get out, sing, mm—while crossing my eyes, banging my head against an oddly carpeted wall and then, finally, pulling myself into the bed. _

_I do not get into my bed to sleep._

_I do not sleep. My spiritual being does not need sleep, and, because of that, neither does my body._

_I have been trying to seek myself an exit out of this hellhole. Some things are rather simple, maybe a little tedious, and others are not. Dressing myself. Eating, sparingly, because if there is one thing Shukaku hates, it was fat. That was because fat got in the way of everything, blubbered around on its own accord, bunched up muscles, caused slow thinking, and, was, in my own opinion, a much worse case then being a bundle of bones. These were easy._

_Talking. Touching. 'Coming out'. There was no use for any of these…_items_, nothing fit to use in combat. I ignored them. Discarded them. Threw them away. The doctors urge me, _you need them, take them back, use them_ but there is no point, nothing that matters. Being compassionate. I do not care, I do not know, I do seek or find or look. I am a selfish person by nature and I will _stay_ a selfish person by nature. Nothing can get me to react. Nothing._

_I do not remember how long I stared at the ceiling before familiar steps gently echo in the hall outside, steps ringing hollowly, as if stepped lightly and with care, _plop, plop, plop_, dark soles, sandals, chocolate brown, probably, and I sit there and listen to this charming music until I can see the top of a blonde head ducking beneath the window. _

_Light, crystalline eyes slowly appear at the edge of the windowsill, followed by a small, perky nose and a pair of thin, but smiling, lips. He waves at me, and I, as usual, do not respond. He lifts up something vaguely foreign. I stare at it, eyes widening—what the hell is that thing, monster, what the, techno?_

_It is bright, bright red, plastic, circular and has a dangling wire attached to its end. My god ducks below again, so I can't see him in the dim lighting, and, after some cursing and loud _bangs_ there is…_

_A cacophony of noise, eager, organized, so horrible I immediately sit up and shriek. The noise stops and I look, eyes wide and furious, panting, where I can see a golden tuft of hair wavering in mid-stride. The noise starts up again, but this time, there are death-pounding rhythms, dark, ghostly voices howling in the night, and I put my hands over my ears and burrow deeper into the bed. The noise stops again, the being starts fussing around, it picks up once more._

_Mm._

_This is…_

Good

_I unravel myself from my sheath of blankets, draped over my head and face, carefully crawling out the bed and next to the window, where the being and I have an eye-to-eye. _

_The music was pleasant. It soothed the voices in my head, seducing them to a state of non-existence, so there were no random thoughts floating about except for my own. And the music's. Even Shukaku disappeared momentarily in the midst of the wonderful notes playing from the little… gadget the blonde had brought. _

"_You like it?"  
_

_I flinch a bit, entrancing lull from the music snapped by the god's gentle voice. I am about to answer "Yes, I love it" when I remember I am supposed to unresponsive and apathetic._

_I nod._

_He beams, as if he had just accomplished the world's most difficult challenge, like he had just won first place in the most important competition in all of man kind, like he had seen me almost smile and was very, very pleased with himself. _

"_I thought'd you be! Yeah, so they tell me they've tried visuals, talking, emotional-improvement etc, and I thought you'd be feeling kind of stressed. So I begged a CD player from Iruka-san and he finally gave me one. Here you go." He takes a slim black case-thing from his pocket and disappears around the corner. I watch, interestingly, as my door opens and he carefully places the thing onto the floor. Joining the item is a pair of dark, padded headphones and a case of CDs. Looking at me nervously, he shuts it and reappears at the window. "That one has the CD that you liked so much and there are more in that case. When I get stressed out or frustrated I always think listening to music makes me feel better. In all actuality you're not supposed to have any electronics because you're a 'bad case' but I think that's all bullshit. You know how to use it, right?"_

_I am not looking at him. Gingerly crawling to the items (I seem to be able to do nothing but crawl because of the condition my body's in) I pick them up and look at the blonde._

_The music from outside is still playing, my mind is still sharp and clear and Shukaku is not here. I am on my own. _

_I feel ecstatic._

"_Thank you." I nod towards him in my sudden joy in being alone, "I really appreciate it."_

_His eyes bulge. His pretty mouth opens a little in surprise and I want to lean forward and claim them. In actuality, I didn't need to claim them because I had already decided that he was _mine_ anyways. He really had no say in the matter._

"_W-whoa! You talked! Uh…no problem! Thanks! Um…" He leans forward and I can see every eyelash, every freckle on his face as he smiles, "You're real cute when you talk you know! I've told you before, but you really need to get it through your head!"_

_He bends over and the music stops. My world stops. Suddenly the voices reawaken and screech in my head, Shukaku is snarling—what the heck was that, where'd you go, Gaara, answer me—my mind spinning back into insanity as I watch the blonde wave at me cheerfully with the red-thing, walking away down the hall. I clutch my newly acquired items to my chest as I struggle to find my way back to the bed—darkness, stay still, sleep, kiss, mine—because of _them

_I quietly place the large headphones over my ears. I turn on the CD player, and, thus, turn on a flow of music that immediately shuts _them_ out, every one of them, soothes me again, brings me this peace I've never had in years. The best part of it all—these were _mine

_Thus began a series of sleep-filled nights I've never been able to have for years._

--

_Two whole months after my arrival at Spring Forth Christian Treatment Center, I am finally allowed to 'officially' interact with the other patients. Of course, I had my being, my god, but the doctor's were oblivious to the fact that he had continued to see me even after they chased him out of my wing. Shukaku is meekly trailing after me, not completely gone and still speaking to me, but, obviously, had less of an effect._

_I try to picture what I must have been like to the other patients._

_Crazy murderer of a boy, spoke to himself and attacked the staff, grins maniacally, finally allowed to dress in a hoodie and some jeans, dark black headphones always hugging his ears because five doctors were injured in the process of unsuccessfully removing them. But because it didn't seem to be doing more harm then good and Gaara actually looked _pleased_ with them on, it wasn't much of a deal. CD Player tucked into the crook of his hoodie, hands hidden in his pants, looking moody, angry, and particularly murderous on day one._

_Everyone is still in horror as they see this insane, lunatic of a boy quietly slip into the cafeteria. Everyone here is crazy. That was why they were here. _But_, they whispered to themselves_, This guy is the _ultimate_ crazy_. They fled from him. They sat at different tables, talked to different people, eyes darting everywhere but this brilliantly red-headed boy who didn't really seem to care that he was the bane of everyone else's existence._

_He sits at a table which had immediately cleared on his arrival, chewing on a piece of beef jerky because that is all he is willing to eat. Things like lettuce and tomatoes and bread rolls have long since given up on him. No one bothers the _new kid_ because everyone is all too busy to act normal._

_Too busy to act normal in an _asylum. _What a bunch of hypocrites._

_There is one boy, though. Short and blonde, been here for five months, on the road to recovery, a 'success'. A smile always adorning his pleasant face, not minding the greasy white tabletops or the greasy white Styrofoam trays full of food, not minding the odd stares people gave him as he approached this new kid, this stranger, dangerous murderer, insane boy, approached him and gave him a smile, saying, _can I sit next to you

_The red-head says nothing, just chews harder on his beef jerky before nodding a little, allowing the blonde—Uzamaki Naruto, everyone knows—to sidle up next to him, allowing him to edge closer to him then he's let anyone during his entire stay. _

_The blonde makes small talk all by himself, talking about the CD player, what his treatment is, if the new guy had been put on treatment yet, how'd you like the food, what'd you think of the people? There are no answers from the other boy, except for one he had when Naruto started to talk about outdoors._

Is there a garden? What? I said, is there a garden? Uh, yeah… whoa! You talked again! Is there a garden? Yes. Can you show it to me? Sure! Of course, when they start letting you go outside, you need a pass you know… everything needs a pass, because the frickin' doctors can't trust you to not run away…

_People stared. People whispered. Everyone was nervous because it was the _new kid_ and the _new kid_ was creepy. Lunch ended and everyone headed towards the therapy group. Naruto tugs on the red head's hands, gripping them with his own, slightly dry ones firmly and carting him towards the therapy room when Iruka-san, the psychiatrist in charge of that lunch hour that day stops him._

He can't go in there. Why not? 'Cause he's not recovered enough. It might be too much for him. What kind of crap is that, Iruka-san? Gaara's perfectly fine. How do you know his name? Who _doesn't_ know his name? Please? Can he come? He'll be good! Besides, hasn't he been 'improving' all this time? Yes, but he's _only_ improved enough to attend lunch! We can't let him into the therapy room or else he might attack the students! He didn't attack anyone _here_! That's a different story! How? I want to go.

_Silence. The two stare at the boy, who's head is cocked to the side, headphones still clenched around his ears as he slowly entwines his fingers with his being, his god, _his_ Naruto who he had claimed in a spurt of possessiveness so many weeks ago_. _His eyes were cold, though defiant._

I want to go.

_And that was that._

--

_Naruto, the being had a name, though hardly applicable enough to cover his wholeness, in my mind, is extremely warm. I know because of the palm resting slightly crooked into my mine. I am half surprised at myself, but the other Gaaras crowding in my brain are either crowing or shouting, a multitude of voices edging into my mind only shut down by the music humming in my ears. _

_Therapy in my mind will always be in the imprint of a large, spacious room so foreign, so vague, yet a dark memory tugging at the bottom of my mind, a tug that said—this is a normal room, you've been in them before, you've been in rooms other then your bedroom with the Plexiglas windows, normal rooms don't have Plexiglas, remember, you have to remember, this is _normal_—with dark tan wallpaper curling around the edges, a chocolate colored rug, three pairs of old, moth-eaten sofas and an enormous painting of a king frowning down upon us all. I can almost feel his dark taunting voice echoing—you people, dare you sit down upon my furniture? I will punish you! My imagination, though greatly cut back and up in the slaughterhouse for months in this hellhole, is still as tacky as ever._

"_Well, looks like we have a new member today!" A man dressed in a very unfashionable green jacket and chewing a toothpick with his arms crossed is sprawled over one of the chairs. The toothpick moves up and down as he talks and I quietly follow the movement with my eyes, up, down, up down, sharp edges, fun to poke people's eyes out with… he notices me staring and his eyes narrow in warning. The only response I give is squeezing the being's hand a little, which causes him to look at me curiously, before pulling me into a …comfy… sofa that dipped so inward I was unintentionally pressed up against the blonde for a moment before I shifted my weight and balanced the cushions out. _

_I am not an intimate person. In fact, as people have quickly gathered, if you even took so much as a wrong step around me I'll tear you—bloodily—from limb-to-limb. The sense of another's flesh against my own was hideous, at best, because the only time I felt another's skin was when I was murdering them. Because of that, I rarely touched other people. It was like a pattern—touching equals killing and most of the time I really didn't want to kill. Thus, not wanting to kill equals no touching._

_Except for now._

_There is a ring of six or seven people not including the being and I, all huddled together looking like caught rabbits trapped in with a wolf—me—trying to look normal or haughty though just making themselves look silly. I am the untouchable, crazy, blood-thirsty newbie patient who stared at people funny, only ate beef jerky, and held hands with Uzamaki Naruto. I was not somebody people would want to go up and make friends with right away._

_Therapy is, as I vaguely remember, utterly and totally boring. I sat there with my head lolled to the side, wanting to snatch my hand away from the blonde's though liking the touch all the same, listening to other people 'admit' things from their pasts and start bursting into tears. I remember this particular girl who had burst into tears every frickin' session until after the seventh time I sat up and kicked her hard in the shin, screaming at her to go get a life and stop complaining if you're not going to frickin' _deal_. The doctors were too shocked about the fact that I had _talked_, much less _shouted_ to reprimand me for 'attacking' another patient. Naruto had been very, very pleased._

_After the first therapy group session (where I had just sat there and 'listened' because the ward in charge didn't ask me to say anything) I start to quietly slink back down the hall towards my Plexiglas prison again, to be kept, to be jailed, trapped again in my own little world where it wasn't really all-that-mine anyways, when suddenly I am jerked back. My hand is still caught in a fine hold of iron that looked delicate but was firm, and my eyes travel from the soft, warm hand up a lean arm, dark-colored t-shirt, determined lips pulled tight, nose, set eyes, bushy and somewhat fluffy blonde hair…_

"_Where are you going?"_

_I stare blankly at him, refusing to let my own lips part, body rigid in a—where do you think I'm going—stance that causes the being's lips to pinch together further._

"_Don't you know, silly? When you're allowed to go to the cafeteria that means you're allowed to stay in the less guarded wing. Didn't the psychiatrists give you a key with a number on it?"_

_Key? Oh yes, that cold metallic thing fat woman had stuffed in my hands on my way out—keep it well, not coming back, evil, get out of my sight, I hate you—jingling in my pocket, a key to freedom, to a life where there is no Plexiglas but there are cameras, a life where doctors can't _peek in_ and _prod _you until you want to nip their fingers off, one-by-one. I am blank as a slab of soft and slightly smelly clay, suddenly easy to mold, to touch, to break off and melt until there is just a puddle of gray pool on the floor where people would point and say _yep, that's Gaara all right, the poor thing_, something flaky and dried and cracked up in more ways then one because there is that nagging voice in my head screeching in it's high little voice, "Uh oh, Gaara's going to get moved again, your world is crumbling, crumbling, can't you stop it? Worthless little child get some _control_ stop them, escape, hit, kill, blood washing the sadness away…" _

_I must have turned paler then I had already had been because the being, concerned as he was, a fuzzy blot in my blurring vision, hurriedly said something—can't hear, can't think, what was that?—to Ir-Iru—whatever that guy's name was—before a strong hand grips my shoulder shaking me. My feet unsteadily move on their own, as it is just a part of a body that was barely a body without a soul, spirit, _intellectual side_ because _that_ had been ripped away into shreds long, long ago. And that was true._

_There is nothing left in this hollow puppet of flesh except for a burnt up heart and a little raccoon that didn't sleep and liked to cackle in the night._

_--_

_The doctors have finally decided that the 'right course of action' to deal with an insane, sort of anorexic, insomnia-plagued, perhaps mute, possible obsessively compulsive, maybe schizophrenic boy was to tackle one problem at a time._

_First, insomnia._

_It was, obviously, totally and completely useless to try to get me to have a fitful sleep without music ringing in my ears with my headphones on _my_ headphones, mine, mine, mine, and a nightlight. I hated and despised the dark, clenching, dragging me down, me screaming, trying to escape, that hell of a prison they dumped me after tearing blood off that nurse, hate it, chew it raw, dammit, why can't they get a brighter light? The first thing they tried to do was place little white powdery things into a sandwich that was handed to me in the morning. _

_I know because the only thing I eat is beef jerky. Everything else was too bland, too tasteless, not lively enough to wake my body up, to revive it, to make it _being_, though I really didn't care, it was a frickin' _body_ for goodness' sake I'm not going to baby it. I know because after I eat the beef jerky I check the rest of the food to see what other crap the cafeteria feeds to the being, _my _being, Naruto, I didn't call him that often, just because. It is my second day in the cafeteria and I am informed that on Friday through Tuesday we actually have _family dinner_—never had much of those, even at home, the heat was unbearably hot, smells of burnt chicken, Ne-chan never could cook—which is supposed to be _scrumptious_ and _good_ and _very, very yummy_ (as you can see it is my being that had told me this because he is the only person in years who still says the word 'yummy' with a straight face). _

_I lift my sandwich and take off the first slice of slightly soggy, slightly olive-colored bread and flip it around, just to find, oddly, a white circular tablet thing that is oozing powder all over the blotchy turkey slice. There are two more of its brethren hiding in the folds of the bread and I stare at the intruder a moment before slowly looking at the being—Naruto, dammit—who looks unfazed._

"_Oh," He cocks his head as he, _how does he do that?_, takes a bite of his sandwich, "Medication."_

_I stare at him longer._

"_They usually grind it up and put it in your drink, but I think they want to see your reaction. Looks like sleep medication. For your insomnia." _

_I take the whole disgusting tray of slop and throw it into the trashcan. _

_Naruto nods. "That's what they always do."_

_The 'treatment' continued._

_I was, as doctors were probably furiously scribbling down on professional personalized notepads, a very, very sick boy. After giving up after a few days of insomnia treatment they decided to tackle my 'anorexia'. _

_Not necessarily meaning I had the disease, just that I was, well, _not eating_. They stalked me at breakfast time when I was not-quite-there and yet-somehow-here and still sunk deep in a mesh of pillows and blankets sprawled everywhere and pulled me out and onto the floor. I am unresponsive but though it really did look like I was sleeping, my body is rigid, wary, untrusting, a minute ahead of everyone else, a step everywhere in all directions in this crazy backwards place. _

_They place a banana on the table, on the floor. I glared at it._

_They put down an apple. I continued to glare._

_Glass of milk. Glare._

_Bowl of cereal. Harder glare._

_Piece of lettuce. What the—glare._

_Slices of tomato. Glare._

_The doctors are looking at each other, each shivering inside his own skin because this frickin' _extreme case insane loony guy_ is _glaring_ at them._

_Ham. Glare._

_Pieces of bread. Glare._

_A plate of scrambled eggs. Glare._

_They look at each other._

_Beef jerky._

_I immediately snatch it up, pop it in my mouth, and attempt to hide in my covers, still chewing. Feeling their gazes attempting to see through fabric and the itching painful urge that was developing inside my chest, I finally scurry out and, impulsively, start to reassemble the mess on the table—banana and apple sitting next to each other at a forty five degree angle, pour exactly half the milk into the cereal bowl and place those about an inch beside the fruit, assemble a sandwich, bread, lettuce, tomatoes, ham, bread, _exactly on top of each other _or else I'd have to do it again, put that on the plate of scrambled eggs and scoot it next to the bowl so that the edges were _just barely_ touching, stand back, dive into the covers, wait._

_The doctors stare. Getting to me to properly eat was _not_ fun. Getting to me to eat and instead seeing a display of one of my moodier bouts of obsessive compulsive disorder was even _less_ fun then that. _

_They tried treating my schizophrenia by putting medication in my drink, which I promptly poured out, my MPD with classical music, for whatever reason, which I wouldn't stop screaming at until they came and took it away, and made me stay in a frickin' room with a frickin' dog to help me 'come out' and _talk_. All of which, rather pleasingly, didn't work._

_Obviously, things weren't going to go as well as they thought it would be. _

_--_

_Music. Beef Jerky, unfortunately. Strawberries, the tender scent of the sun, if it had a scent. Something heavenly, too. Chicken? Soup._

_I am laid down on my bed with my head feeling heated and blown to the size of a hot air balloon, phases of unbelievable pain snatching my mind away from time to time, leaving me panting and waiting in dread for the next bout when I wasn't moaning. My hair is slightly sticky with sweat and clung to my face in such an unbearable fashion I writhed, trying to find function in my arms though upsettingly finding none._

_But there are things my weakening soul can cling to in my chilling yet hot hazes. Like what I mentioned earlier._

_And a certain blonde-headed being that was emitting or holding most of the things I mentioned earlier. _

_Things I mentioned earlier, clearly, still at the top of my 'wonder-while-sick' list._

"_Gaara," his voice is hollow, vague, unfocused, in a fog so thick my hands flounder upwards trying to find him, seek him, seek _anything_ besides flashes of red and white and speckled things that made my eyes whirl, "Gaara, drink this, and none of your throwing-up thing." Suddenly a hot concoction sliding down my throat, burning, searing, me trying to cough it up and a smooth surface—spoon?—firmly pushing it back down again._

_He's mumbling to himself, words slightly incoherent except for little phrases, "—sick, can't believe—the mind—Gaara, is—argh—mind, believes it's—in the mind, just because—way to hide—Gaara—no, but—agh!" Completely useless junk anyways, can't tell if it's my voice, his voice, _anyone's_ voice, but the concoction's gone, me coughing, gagging, trying to get up, something stuffed into my mouth—_

_Black._

_And then, everything was completely clear._

_The walls of my room were bright, bright wallpaper white, a pale morose color that was plain, blank and emotionless. A just-as-white door opens up to a closet full of old hoodies and jeans and pants that Ne-cha—Temari had brought with me when I first arrived here, in a duffel bag, _my_ clothes from _Suna_ not some frickin' nurse-dress thing. There is a mirror made of shiny plastic because the doctors aren't dumb enough to put real mirrors inside a bunch of lunatics' rooms, the floor a white carpet of fuzz, bed, large, maybe queen-sized full of white, white, white blankets and sheets and a white pillow because everything just _has_ to be such a bright white color and the bed was big because the doctor's didn't want _one other_ thing tacked up against them where they were the minority whether they liked it or not. Long, ramble of sentence juggling around in my mind as my eyes focus on something that was, tragically, not white and thus stuck out like a sore thumb. _

_Naruto, in all his golden glory. He is propped up on my bed with his arms folded and he was glaring at me. The music is gone, and so are all my little voices, too, which was a good thing, but the strawberry and sun smell was still there. That was, because, the smell came from _Naruto_ who was _sitting right there_ while I stare at him._

"_Gaara!" He shouts at me, loudly, and I open my mouth, only to snap it shut while the blonde continues on his about-to-be-merciless rampage, "You dumb creepy red baggy eyed _WEIRDO!_ Stupid! You did that on purpose, right? I hate it when you new people do that! Dammit!" He grabs me, roughly, by the head and starts shaking me back and forth, back and forth, mind blurring, images fading, me so surprised because no one has touched me like that in years and it _really, really _hurt. "I hate you! You know how long I've been here? Huh?"  
_

_I don't answer._

_I don't do anything but go black again, because, well, it just seemed to be the right thing to do at that moment._

_--_

Starving yourself is not a joke. The body cannot live on beef jerky forever. One day I snapped my eyes open in the middle of the night and thought, _crap, I'm hungry_. The next day I ate everything on my plate and even, pathetically, stared at Naruto's until he let me have half of his sandwich. I went on a rampage. I drank from my milk even though I knew the doctors had drugged it, ate anything I can lay my hands on, no longer cared if the banana and apple weren't at a forty-five degree and angle and tried to hold Naruto's hand more often. I was acting totally and completely out of character and it didn't faze me one bit.

I do have to say, I _do_ get better, eventually. Many things happen in my stay. Many things that I really don't want to go into very much detail of, except for the fact that I got better, I got worse, I got better again, Naruto left, I hit rock bottom. Everything revolved around order and my life, crumbled and thin as a wisp, is _nothing_ like order.

Nine months after my arrival at the center, whether I recovered or not, Baki drives up to the doorstep, packs my things into the back trunk, tells me to get into the back of the car and says, quite matter-of-factly, that we were moving to Konoha.

Nothing would ever be quite the same after that.

--

Author's Notes: Yes, the entire chapter is a flashback. Yes, there are some REALLY REALLY important parts missing, which I will leave as another cliffhanger and maybe reveal in another chapter. Yes, I am aware that my idea of mental wards is very, very inaccurate, so don't flame about that, please. REVIEWERS I LOVE! (Hugs all reviewers, gives them candy and gaara dolls) Luv, luv, luv! (waves) LOVES! (coughs) in another words, please feel free to review! I'm thinking of writing a seperate fanfic/companion fic to this one about his stay at the psych ward and Naruto. Poor Naruto. Another cliffhanger-- what was HE in there for? Dun dun dun... (most likely the flashback will continue as the top paragraph before the chapter)


	14. Name: Blackness and Cookies

_People ask me why._

_I don't know. I never give them a straight answer, just a glare, a sneer, a turn-of-the-head, silence. _

_Before I said it was the brilliant smile, the happy-go-lucky attitude, the beacon of light he was to people like me so lost in this world. It was a very good excuse too. It was so good that I even fooled myself for so long, believing this well-woven lie, this heart-aching jist that everyone believed._

_But it's not the real thing. There is more to it, deeper levels, layers and layers, of anger and loneliness and all-out passionate moments that my mind is too terrified to comprehend, instead, burrying those memories, those emotions, deep into my soul, where they can never be touched, never be remembered again._

_However, I'm pretty sure its time to start digging up those ancient volumes up now, time to face my past, look at what happened, and, ultimately, believe._

_Believe what had happened was real and that I was the one that caused it all._

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

When I finally arrived home with my siblings after the party, I dump my prizes from the "fish stuff out of the tank with your mouth" game Sakura had insisted we all participated in (I am surprisingly good with my mouth) onto my bed and quietly slip into the study room. Kankuro immediately flops onto the couch, unbuttoning his jacket as he does so, obviously satisfied.

"Dude!" He shouts at Temari, who was riffling through our refrigerator looking for some healthy treat to counteract the chips she had consumed during the party, "Damn, I miss high school parties! Too bad the only thing we did was drink alcohol, and not even everyone did that. But it was fun!" He sighs, belching, content.

"Uh huh," Temari answers, obviously not listening to our drunk-dump brother, "Yeah, whatever. Gaara, did you see that Carrot-and-Apple Jell-O I made two days ago?"

"Kankuro ate it." I answer shortly. Said brother yelps aloud.

"Gaara! Argh, you little tattle-taler!"

I just inwardly shrug, carefully maneuvering myself through piles of notebooks, binders, textbooks and novels littering the floor of the study room, piling onto Baki's neatly made bed, the dusty bookshelf, the old cedar desk that used to be in Kankuro's room until it broke out of sheer oldness. Of course, with a little super glue and duct tape, _anything_ became useful in our household.

Gently hefting piles of short stories Temari probably wrote while biting her nails in nothing but her panties and purple nightdress onto an empty space on the desk, I sort through some of the gunk now almost glued onto our floor from the weight of everything else pressing against it. I find old reports Temari and Kankuro wrote while they were still in high school, I find documents and bills Temari had signed or paid and had just hurriedly filed away the extra copies in random folders and dumped into the study room, I find old photographs of us siblings in Suna, I find letters Temari received from friends in Suna, the first two years after we moved, I find a bunch of useless but interesting things that just wasn't what I wanted.

As I was shuffling everything about while searching for the documents I wanted, I habitually started to sort things out. All creative writings Temari and Kankuro had furiously written go in a file labeled 'Creative Writing by Sabaku no Temari and Kankuro' sitting on the shelf. All contracts go in a hanging folder to go into the file cabinet. All bills go into another hanging folder in another file cabinet. All letters and personal notes go into another file on the shelf. I spent about an hour stuffing all the photographs, sometimes piled high still in their photograph package, sometimes tucked in between documents, into our family album, trying to put them order, which later also went on the bookshelf. The more things went into folders, the closer it seemed I was to finding the papers. Admittedly, the floor was definitely actually coming to view.

I find Temari's Diaries and Kankuro's Logs, which I don't bother to read because I am a good brother that way (not, I'm just not interested in what they thought of me. No, correction, you can say I was afraid to find out what they thought) and put them, in chronological order, on the bookshelf on another shelf from the previous folders. I find a whole lot of romance and mystery novels that Temari has brought home over the years along with Kankuro's action and adventure ones and my short realistic fiction ones tucked everywhere, which I placed onto the last two shelves on the bookshelf.

Hot, sweaty, and tired by the time I was done almost cleaning up the study room, I finally find what I want. Under piles and piles of papers and books, there, on the floor, a small file clipped together with a silver paperclip, a doctor's scrawl on its sleeve: Sabaku, Gaara. _Medical Records_.

Slowly extracting the thing from its hiding place, I tuck it under my arm and creep out into the hall. Both Kankuro and Temari have gone to sleep, as it was almost one in the morning, so I was safe from their prying eyes and ears. After safely reaching my bed, I carefully turn on my desk lamp and set the file onto its hard wooden surface.

Flipping through the papers, I skip all my normal, annual check-ups reports from my various doctors, skip my shot-record, blah, blah, blah, until I get to a thick set of papers at the back, paper clipped. This is what I want.

_Spring Forth Christian Treatment Center: Sabaku, Gaara; Medical Records; Clinically Insane_

Hands slightly shaking, I attempt to open the first page, to peek at the doctor's point of view on my rampage of insanity, craziness, but I can't do it. Because I really didn't want to _cheat_, to see what I was forgetting, to remember what I have purposely forgotten for five years, because in truth _that_ was what I was looking for—that important memory, the last piece of my complicated puzzle of a mind, the thing that breathed life into the empty pieces of remembrance in my head. Silently staring at the packet of documents, I slowly remove them from the safety of their medical file, slip back into the study room put the slightly lighter bundle along with its brethren.

After safely creeping into my room and shutting the door, I take out a tack and pin the packet of papers onto my corkboard-thing on my wall next to the will. I then shut off the light, will the nightlight at the corner of my room on, and stare at the ceiling as I patiently wait for the ever-so-slow sleep to take me, all the while feeling the presence of the paper near me.

Just in case.

--

When I emerged from the shower this morning, I stumbled into a full-fledged real true-to-true fight that could have shaken the earth twice over with the amount of screaming and stomping it created. I stare with a towel thrown across my head, totally bare except for some boxers I had grabbed from the laundry (Kankuro's… the waistline is too wide and its too tight down there) as Temari picks up a plastic plate from the cabinet and throws it, not very friendly, at my brother, who ducks and continues bellowing.

"Who the fuck do you think you are you frickin' bitch! You think you can just run away from the family like this, huh? Every morning, every night, going out to those night clubs seducing men—what the hell do you think you're doing, you freak? Get a hold of yourself!"

"Get a hold of _your_self!" Temari shrieks back, face already blotchy with anger, "Shut the fuck up about me going to night clubs, just look at you! Bringing a bunch of sluts into the home, fucking in Gaara's bed, being a drunken bastard loser all the time, _you're_ the one that doesn't care about anything! All you care about is yourself you little _brat_ don't think you're all so big now you're grown up, deep down you're still that creepy kid with your fucking _obsession_ with those fucking _dolls_ of your—"

"Don't you talk about my dolls!" Kankuro roars, picking up Temari's thrown plate and throwing it back at her, "Don't you even _dare_ bring them into this! And don't scream at me about my hobbies, I got them from _you_ anyways!"

"How'd you get them from me—"

"—_SHUT THE HELL UP YOU WHORE YOU HAVE NO SAY IN WHAT I DO!"_ Kankuro's voice is so loud even I have to take a step back if I didn't want my eardrums to burst, "You fucking _hypocrite_ I'm _sick_ of you! When the hell are you going to move out, you bitch, you're twenty already and still living with your family! _Get out of here_! _For God's sake, get the fuck out of here!"_

There are tears streaming down Temari's face as she slams a fist into the table, finally, after years of expecting it to, shattering it into a flurry of splinters that fly every which way and I stare at the mess of what had been our old probably centuries year old table with an odd sadness. Poor table. Oh well, it was past its time anyway.

"I _hate_ you." she whispers, quietly, fist slightly trembling in her fury, "can't you see the reason I stay is because this family's already fucked up enough as it is? If I leave all you'll ever do is get drunk and have sex all the time and Gaara'd… Gaara would…Gaara'd…" she stops, lips trembling, then, with one swift motion flies out of the room, out the door, out the flat, and into the biting cold of March. I stare as Kankuro stomps past me, pissed, slams the door to his room and screams, loud and muffled, through his pillow which really wasn't enough for my brother's booming voice chords.

I am still a moment, contemplating what to do. As I am not exactly dumb and I knew better then to go off and look for my sister, I turn around and head back into my bedroom. And lock the door.

'Cause I didn't really want to deal with Temari coming home and realizing that she had just broken our table which would cost more then two hundred dollars to replace.

--

I head into the kitchen the day after, black hoodie, black pants, black socks, black headphones gripping my unfortunately not black ears, the image of Kankuro on any normal day because I didn't feel like making up my own color scheme today, cautious when I spot my sister sipping tea on a new table she had brought when she came back from her rampage yesterday. Even if I am capable of decapitating her and hiring a maid to replace her duties, I still feel my face go white every time she gave me_ that look_ that said 'I know you ate my cookies yesterday and I know you know you ate my cookies yesterday so if you don't want to be slowly tortured with a frying pan and a thong, _just do what say_'. Needless to say, I did _not_ appreciate those kinds of looks.

As I stiffly come in and pour myself a cup of tea, Temari continues to read one of her favorite romance novels with a blatant poker face pulled on, looking at me once and saying, "Hi."

I don't reply, just pull up a chair for myself and stare at her with large, almond-shaped green eyes, expecting her to be snappish or angry or _something_ at any moment possible in a spontaneous spasmodic fashion as she often is. She just continues to sip her tea.

"No school today?" She asks, curt, flipping a page and giggling over something she had evidently just seen or read. I continue to stare, sip my tea, decide that I am very, very hungry and slither to the refrigerator. Finding a bowl of rice and some burnt soup that was pretty edible if you didn't eat the black bits, I heat it up with the microwave as Temari continues to, scarily, giggle her way through some more pages of her obviously, awesomely amusing book.

"Gaara," She says, suddenly serious again as she turns another page, lifting the cup to her mouth and realizing that there is no more tea, "Neji's coming at ten to pick you up. Make sure to bring suntan lotion, a hat, and a plastic bag. Understand?"

I stare at her—_why the heck do I have to bring a plastic bag and why is Neji picking me up in the first place_—at the tip of my tongue, and, instead of answering, push a large spoonful of mushy rice-and-soup into my mouth and chewed. "Mm." Temari looks at me above the cover of her book; probably pondering on whether that was a yes mm or a no mm.

It could have been taken either way.

"Good," Temari finally says, obviously deciding that my 'mm' was a yes, "Now please go away." She's never been so curtly rude with me before and I subconsciously toy with the idea of taking a hold of her head and cracking it upon the floor before hanging her body up to dry on the clothesline. No, that would be too messy.

I hate messes. Habitually cracking my knuckles with one hand—something I do when I get aggravated—I finish my rice-soup, put it in the sink, and go into Kankuro's room. Speak of the devil—his room is in its entirety a huge mess itself. The paint he'd used to cover the walls and ceiling with odd words and pictures is a little chipped off, posters plaster almost everywhere where there weren't black smudges, clothes, books, novels, porn, candy, trash, piling up everywhere so that there isn't an inch of floor seen to the human eye, Kankuro himself a mass of flesh on his bed, snoring.

"Gu…" he snorts suddenly, smiling drunkenly before hugging and, possibly, groping his pillow, "You're so nice and sexy down there, Pu-chan…"

I shut the door, head into my room, and decide that my brother is absolutely _insane_ to think girls are 'cute'. I have never, ever seen a girl in that way and I never, ever will because… they're so…_ bumpy_ it causes shivers to go up and down my spine. And, possibly, because Temari is a girl and every other girl I get 'affectionate' with I just see them like another Temari. Ha, ha. I guess gayness might be a genetic thing and Temari's recessive gay gene has rubbed off on my recessive gay gene making me extremely, explosively gay.

What kind of logic is that?

Remembering that Neji is going to come pick me up to go who-knows-where I straighten myself, put away all my black clothes (I had pulled them on this morning just to piss Temari off… obviously, not using my head) and stand totally naked in my room. Wonderful. I pinched my slightly muscular arms and legs, looked at the flabby thing I called my butt (Temari once shouted at me one day when I was being particularly self-conscience that I had a very cute perky butt and I should stop fussing over it), glanced at my nether regions (making sure I didn't lose my dick in my sleep… ha, ha, bad joke) and stared at my face in the mirror.

After some sort of screwed up thought process I conclude that I am a gangly, red-headed, partially-freckled, googly-eyed freak with stick limbs, a fatty butt and a manhood that isn't even worth mentioning. I swear, this is all true.

I will now step aside from my body a moment and consider myself without any bias (I must say I am purposely harsh on myself just for the sheer pleasure of feeling better when people compliment me… yes, I know I am an absolute dork) and I can faintly feel a ghostly shiver as my whacked-up inner workings tear themselves away from my freezing physical being and stare at me blandly. You can tell I do this a lot, when no one's looking, of course (I have a reputation to maintain, you know).

Young, lithe boy, a pained expression flickering on his face, red tufted hair roughly poking in every which way in this 'I-combed-it-already-don't-bug-me-about-it-dammit' fashion that lied through its teeth, eyes and skin fiercely contrasted by a thick line of mostly black eyeliner surrounding each eye, nice, half-slender, half-set neck that connected to shoulders that were just a little on the feminine side. A chest that is well-built but not muscle-man like from practice at Aikido, which I am still doing, by the way, slightly muscled arms and legs that are a little skinny but had enough meat on them to look good in the right clothes. Legs are long, nice, and slender, muscled, of course, set firmly on surprisingly small feet that curled femininely beneath him in this heart-agonizing way. And he can be considered 'big' though I wouldn't know because I really don't go around asking guys how big their dicks are. I'm not _that_ much of a weirdo.

I try to imagine this body having sexual intercourse or the like and just can't. Maybe because it's _my_ body? Of course, there are men at school who brag of having wet dreams and masturbating all the time, which I find mutually disgusting and abnormal at once, having never experienced that kind of thing before. I am apparently the only guy at school that has never bodily gone through something sexually, whether it is really, tong-tied kissing, hugging-in-a-not-sisterly-fashion (Temari…), groping, touching, sex itself, wet dreams, 'getting hard' all those other random things that guys all like to stereotypically talk about. I know because it's what Kiba talks about when there is nothing else to talk about when he probably just wants to piss Shikamaru and me off in Drama class. That, and Kankuro sometimes, randomly, drags me into one of his 'let's watch porn!' sessions.

"Not God," I think to myself as I stare at my motionless body, "I don't think _anyone_ would want a non-active partner…"

Thus… began my revelation to become more interested in sexually related things.

And Neji wonders why I am giving him that _certain look_ that spoke of furious interrogation, awkward questions that demand answers and a lot, _a lot_, of blushing.

--

"G-Gaara…kun…" Neji's ever-so-shy, pig-tailed cousin shyly curls her fingers at me in a frightened little wave before instinctively stepping behind my older, taller, _stronger_ friend, "Y-you look w-well…" I raise a brow at her hesitant and bland compliment that was a more of a _please don't kill me_! comment then a _my you look nice_ comment.

If I was any other straight guy I would have thought that she was adorable—firm perky breasts tucked tightly under a too small shirt with some logo imprinted on it, short jean shorts practically cupping her butt up in this nice… round shape and showing lots and lots of thigh. Of course, she ruined the whole 'sexy' look (I will never be turned on by girls… I mean, they have these _mounds _everywhere and its not like it's not attractive, it's just not attractive to _me) _by adding some stockings and some buckled shoes which were probably chosen by her. The rest…

"I didn't," Neji says curtly as we walk closer and closer to the Gate of Doom, "want her to come to the carnival dressed in a plaid skirt, navy vest, and long-sleeved white girly-girl blouse that made her look like a nerd." His eyes wander disapprovingly to the stockings and his cousin squeaks, "I, unfortunately, couldn't do anything about those awful socks…"

"S-stockings," she says frightfully and her cousin rewards her with a twisted glare. We are at the last place I want to be in the world, a place where _horrors_ are revealed and people scream and die of bloody murder. We are at… a _carnival_.

"_Hey kid!" A white face looms at me, my own face paling and trying to hide behind my sister's skirt, "You want a balloon?" Before I can answer I feel a hand on my butt, why was there a hand on my butt? and I turn around and see this aging man with stubble smiling down at me._

"_If you come with me, I'll give you candy," he coaxes, but before either he or the white face man can steal me and keep me forever and ever Temari comes to my rescue, whacks the two with some of her handy-dandy fans and runs off with Kankuro and me at top speed in the opposite direction. _

_After a whole day of cotton candy in my hair, fighting with Kankuro, throwing up after numerous rides, getting chased by more pedophiles, almost getting kidnapped by some old lady who thought I was her grandkid, getting scared by more white face men and basically screaming my head off because I couldn't find Bunny I decide that I will never, ever set a foot in a carnival again._

_Never._

I can't believe I am setting my feet in a carnival _again_. And I can't believe Temari had set this all up with Neji beforehand at that blasted party.

"T-three adults, please," Hinata (Neji had tried to knock that name into my head thousands of times and only now am I responding to this 'treatment') speaks through the small black speaker thing situated between a glass sheet separating us from a fat looking secretary woman who was buffing her nails as she spoke to us.

"That will be thirty dollars, please."

I can feel my brow twitch. _Thirty bucks_? I mean, that's pocket change for the ever-so-rich Hyuuga family but for me it was like, _with that money I can stock the refrigerator for another month or two_. Yes, our family is, but will not always be, pathetically poor. I added the 'will not always be' because after finishing therapy I will, whether I want it or not, inherit my father's fortune, making me and my siblings really, very rich. Probably just as rich as the Hyuuga or Uchiha families, almost.

Thankfully Neji is such a good friend he paid for my ticket (plus I glared at him from the side of my eye when he asked me if I had the ten bucks needed to get in) and we were soon on our merry way into the carnival, surrounded by bright, twirling lights, the sounds of laughter and slurping and throwing up as some unfortunate people stumble off their rides, the smell of burnt sugar and too-much-human contact, trash littering the ground, little brightly colored tents blooming in the middle of a cut-away forest shadowed by large, enormous rides. People are bustling, shopping, dating, talking, fighting, pushing us this way and that as Hinata shamelessly clings to Neji, who looks faintly annoyed at his cousin's proximity, my eyes locking on to Neji's bright green scarf (guess who gave it to him? Lee) and keeping it in eyesight at all times.

After much pushing and shoving, gasping and huffing, we finally pull ourselves out of a current of shrieking tourists and locate a small, slightly sticky bench where Neji takes the sticky area in a very manly fashion so that Hinata, the girl of this odd threesome, can sit in a dry area, resting. We haven't even gotten ourselves on a ride yet and there is sweat already beading down my cheek.

As I regain my strength and breathe without showing any outward emotion (I pride myself in saying I look absolutely composed throughout the whole pushing-pulling crowd ordeal) I remember my new determination in sexual things.

"Neji," I say, so low that Hinata squeaks, huddles near Neji instinctively, squeaks again at what she just did and tries to huddle with the air next to her (very odd moment) as the long-haired brunette just looks slightly annoyed, "I need information."

"Now?"

I stare at him with my eyes open wide, and he can read the '_yes, now you freak why else am I asking you'_ in the glint reflected by the hovering sun attempting to dazzle us all with its brightness.

"What?"

"Do you have a sexually transmitted disease?" Neji stares at me like my head had exploded and I was tearing through the tents at a hundred miles per hour looking for it, eyes wide in disbelief.

"_Excuse me_?" He squawks in a very Hyuuga way (which meant narrowing his eyes and sort of raising his voice a couple octaves), "I-I—are you accusing me of sleeping around? Because, no, I don't! What gave you _that_ idea in the first place?" I shrug, as if carelessly slipping off questions, which I am.

"Ok. Are you pregnant?"

"_What_?"

"Do you masturbate?"

"That is very priv—"

"Have you had a wet dream and if so who was it about?"

"Gaara—yes, everyone has but the person is _disclosed information_—"

"Gone on a date before?"

"_Yes_, you have too."

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes—_wait, what does that have to do with—_"

"Are you top or bottom and do you do blowjobs or do you prefer to take it anal?"

Hinata's face is a beet red and Neji looks very, very tormented as he stares at me, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Finally sort-of calming down the flush in his cheeks, he snaps, embarrassed, "I believe that I have a right to refuse to answer."

"Fine then," I skip over it hurriedly, "I'll assume you are all, now—"

"_OH!_" Hinata suddenly cries out, as if she couldn't stand this conversation anymore and is pointing very, very nervously at a tilt-a-whirl spinning dazzling blue and green colors all around as ecstatic screams ring from within, "Look, N-Neji-niisan, looks like f-fun! W-want to go ride?"

"Sure!" Neji shouts, suddenly so happy that he was about to spend some quality time with his baby cousin and possibly totally ignore my deeply personal questions, "C'mon Gaara, let's go!"

And they prance away in the sunset (not really, but you know what I mean), as I trail behind them. Ok, so maybe Neji wasn't the best person to ask. There's only two more people left to interrogate and one of them is my last, _last_ resort, which I am never planning to use.

But back to the tilt-a-whirl.

Hinata immediately latches onto Neji's arm and refuses to let go, no matter how many twitching glares he throws at her, looking up at the spinning machine with a frightened glint in her eye though trying to pull on a determined face in the presence of her intimidating cousin and his even more intimidating friend. The line is short, thank the Lord, and we immediately find ourselves filed at the entrance gate to the ride. I am always fascinated by the entrance gates, the mechanic whirring of the huge metallic being that swirled and spun, the anticipating building in my stomach though I truly wasn't all that excited, probably even the cold air waiting to be blown across my already ruffled hair as I spun.

"Three?" the man-at-the-gate says, bored, sighing as he unlocks the chain hung across the red, metallic door and let us climb aboard this dizzying disk-like structure, black surrounding us all around as we go in, "Ok, listen up kiddos, those over at the wall are your seat belts, pull them across your chest like that, see, that's right. During the ride I must instruct you to keep your hands at your sides against the wall because it will be very dangerous if you do not have your hands against the wall. If you are pregnant, have high blood pressure or wear any dangling accessories please place them in this bag…" I zone out as he lists the safety procedures and, finally, steps out of the disk-UFO-thing and shuts the door so it is suddenly pitch black.

I feel my voice plunge into my stomach. _Black_. No light, no escape, no area of comfort, no anything but squeezing me relentlessly, wanting to tip me over, back under the cliff, into my own insanity, drowning, dammit, _let me out_, I _have_ to get out, but the damn safety bar's over my lap and I can't see anything, can't hear anything but Hinata's heavy breathing, and then—

Twirling. Who knew such twirling can twist my head this way and that and cause me to suddenly explode in a fountain of new found giddiness that scared the heck out of me, bubbling up from my throat and giggling to itself in this freakishly insane way that makes Neji whisper, "A-a-a-a-a-a-are you o-o-o-o-o-k, G-g-g-g-g-aara?" Because we were spinning so fast his voice is outstretched, each note a second behind us. I don't respond, can't respond, just find myself spinning, wildly, out of control, the white room coming up towards me—"The mind plays tricks—itself, protection against—patterns—"—as I stare up as the top of the dome lifts itself, suddenly revealing piercing, startling light, so bright, so sudden I let out a little strangled scream before everything went black.

Again.

Dear not God, I am such a loser.

--

According to Temari, my adventure after the great darkness swallowed me up went something like this: the ride attendant panicked and called the doctor, who woke me up while I was in a daze and took me home while Neji and Hinata stayed at the carnival, ate cotton candy and had a jolly good time. Of course, they _did_ come back and brought me some souvenirs and another ticket to the carnival which would still be open next week, so I wasn't _that_ bitter, but I was still pissed that I had _fainted_ on a frickin' _carnival ride_. I am losing my cool. There has _got_ to be some way to regain my composure.

And I haven't had any of sexually related questions answered either, dammit.

--

"Gaara, if you want to get clearer chords try to keep your fingers in a sort of block grip."

Itachi is leisurely stretched over his leather navy-colored couch, hair spilling over his shoulder and hands, loose from its usual tie. He's wearing a collar shirt and some jeans, proudly displaying a hickey on his collarbone exposed because of the way his collar shirt was buttoned. He seems smugly satisfied as beside him sat a quiet bulky form of a man with the oddest blue skin I have ever seen.

"Kisame!" Itachi had introduced Neji and me to when we first arrived to Uchiha Manor to get ready for our twelve-hour practice on the last Saturday before the Battle of the Bands, "This is Neji and Gaara. Neji's a year older then Otouto and Gaara's got a crush on Naru-chan!"

All I did was twitch at the way he introduced us, carefully taking the…fish guy's hand and shaking it. Neji just stiffly bowed and dragged me to the living room. Thus ending with the two adults hanging about our practice area, Itachi shouting 'advice' from the sidelines and Kisame just sitting there like a boulder. I don't know him, he doesn't know me, we avoid each other like the plague. The art of talking-but-not-out-loud has its charms.

"Kiss the rain / upon the lips / the cooling dew / sweeping away / the tears / cried within / me, kiss the rain / kiss it like you'd / kiss me if I was still here / upon the lips / the cooling dew / sweeping away / the tears cried within"

Neji sang beautifully and sadly, soft tenor fluttering about the ears of the occupants sitting in the room, words strung together—an art of speech. Though I admit the lyrics were pretty cheesy by themselves, I greatly admire Neji's singing. Everyone does.

"Try to stay in one key!" Itachi shouts, "It's cool that you can switch keys but it's better on the ears if you stay in one!" Neji stops singing and looks very, very indignant. _No one_ has accused him of something so… ridiculous before about his singing. I just stare at Itachi like he is mad. What the heck did he think he was doing, criticizing the senior boy? I mean, he'd already picked on Naruto's voice, Sasuke's beat, and my chords, but that doesn't mean he has to pick on Neji just for the sake of being able to say at least one bad thing about each of us 'younger children'.

Before I can say anything, however, Neji answers, icily, "I will take your advice to heart, Itachi-san." He smiles a tight-lipped smile, "But I prefer to sing my own style, if you don't mind. Going through several keys is, really, part of the music."

Itachi just shrugs an _okay-but-it'll-definitely-hurt-you_ shrug and leans back into his couch.

Relieved that the Itachi-attack seemed to be over, I let my thoughts wander as we continued to practice our song. Again. And again.

It was exactly one week from the Battle of the Bands. Naruto is hysterical.

"Crap! Neji! Did you remember to mail in our application form?"

"Yes, Naruto."

"Are you sure it didn't get lost in the mail somewhere?"

"Yes, Naruto."

"Are you _positive_?"

"_Yes Naruto_," Neji had replied, gritting his teeth, "If you want I can log onto the website and show you our name under the 'entered' list."

Naruto seemed to get the hint.

He just tackled another subject. "Is Gaara's Chevy big enough to carry the equipment? Do we have extra strings? What if we freak before the Battle? Do you have to wear makeup? How many people are going to be there? _Do you our new t-shirts ready_?"

Basically, he's been like that all day and it was starting to get on all our nerves, even mine.

"Hey, let's all take a break," Sasuke suddenly says, out of the blue, and everyone stares at him, even his own brother. Before the CEO can properly say anything snotty, however, drumsticks find themselves on the music stand, two guitars are propped up against the wall and a bass is stranded in the middle of the carpet while four tired-out high school students teeter into the kitchen in less then two seconds flat.

Said brother is huffy. "Don't touch my spiritual-hummus ok? Or my yoga-cookies! Sasuke! _SASUKE, did you hear me_?"

"Just leave it, Itachi," I hear the rumbling blue boulder of a man say from the living room, "Stop being annoying."

Itachi says something snide, though it is lost in my mind as I spot Sasuke starting to unload part of his refrigerator in preparation for some odd delicacy he probably learned in the process of being dragged into Itachi's random bouts of insaneness. A jar of cinnamon,, white flour, brown sugar, white sugar, butter, sour cream, nutmeg, and, probably in defiance, two of Itachi's forbidden yoga cookies which he stuffs into his mouth. No, Sasuke does not have an incredibly big mouth. Those yoga cookies are just really, really small. Naruto rolls his eyes and, irises suddenly lighting up in excitement, out-of-nowhere grabs my arm and swings me over. Dazed, I barely register what's going on until I find myself elbow-deep in a pile of dough that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere with Naruto beside me booming out the lyrics to _The Tears Cried Within_, the song we are planning to sing at the BOB (battle of the bands) in a seriously off-pitch voice.

"THE TEARS! _KISS THE RAAAAAAAAAAIN!_" He shouts at the top of his lungs as he, very vigorously, cuts the dough into little equal-sized pieces to be molded by Sasuke, who is wincing at the blonde's singing, "Upon the _lips_! Sweeping _awaaaaaay!_"

"Stop stealing my lines!" Neji snaps loudly above Naruto's din, "You're the accompaniment singer! You're just supposed to _ECHO!_" I grit my teeth and focus on the dough beneath me, inwards, outwards, inwards, outwards, flip over, start again, ignore insane friend…

"Gaara!" Naruto belts out, suddenly placing my name in his wildly edited song (Neji's getting pretty pissed because he was the one that had wrote the lyrics and didn't like the younger boy changing his hard-thought words), "Kiss the rain; kiss it like you'd kiss me if I was still heeeeeeere!" I immediately cast my gaze downward so the other junior couldn't see the slight pink dusting that had risen on my face. It was just a song, a song that my best friend had written no less, but why did the blonde just _have_ to incorporate my name in there?

After, rather difficultly, trying to make whatever we were making (Sasuke ordered us around, me and Neji, while Naruto, who obviously knew what we were making, did everything without being asked) with Naruto bursting into song every few minutes (much to everyone's annoyance) and Itachi sometimes storming in and out under the excuse of going to his room but really just trying to figure what we were up to and shouting at us for eating some of his precious yoga cookies (we all pointed at Sasuke and he was like "Guys!") we were all pretty tired. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was about two in the afternoon, approximately, and Sasuke had just put the plate of sad-looking sour cream cookies into the oven.

We all crowd around a small kitchen table in a corner of the kitchen (there are many corners to the Uchiha's horrendously oversized kitchen), Neji sitting huffily next to me smelling faintly of nutmeg because he had spilt the jar all over his clothes, mostly because Naruto had crashed into him while spinning to his edited rain song. Naruto had his sleeves rolled up to his elbow and a smudge of cookie batter on his cheek, which Sasuke carefully wipes off with a napkin.

Naruto stares. "Huh?"

"There was batter on your face."

"Oh."

'

I seethe.

Sasuke himself looks slightly battered, partially because he's been trying to control the creation of the cookies _and_ ignore his crazy brother at the same time _and_ deal with Naruto's singing, which he was doing off-pitch on purpose _and_ try not to have a staring contest with Gaara right now.

There is an absolute silence for a brief moment, Naruto sighing and staring up at the Uchiha's rather nice ceiling, Neji looking over his shoulder and looking out the window, into the garden, thinking about something deep, me, crossing my arms and trying to look brooding, even if my mind was blank and Sasuke, looking at the kitchen door as if he was contemplating doing something but decided in the end not to. Eventually, however, the silence is broken.

"Sasu-_ke_!" Naruto whines, emphasizing the name's last syllable, suddenly twirling out of his rather expensive looking wooden seat and almost crashing into Sasuke, who looks slightly annoyed that the blonde had interrupted his contemplate-if-I-should-do-this thought tirade, "I'm bored! Let's go practice some—"

"_NO_." the rest of us says loudly, then look surprised at how insistent the other two were. Naruto pouts a little, cutely, so his natural blush stands out blatantly from his cheeks in this not-beautiful-but-still-attractive manner, crossing his arms and looking at the oven timer, which said in large red numerals that we still have seven more minutes to go before the cookies were ready to take out of the oven. Stamping his foot on the floor a little, he paces about before finally taking a tight grip on my bare arm, exposed because I had been wearing a jacket over my red tang top and had earlier in the day removed the jacket.

His hand feels warm, and my eyes flicker a moment in memory—_gripping them with his own, slightly dry ones firmly and carting him towards the therapy_—before I feel myself tugged upwards and an arm sidle him around my shoulder. Neji and Sasuke stare as Naruto, being the ecstatic young man he was, bellows out, quite flatly, "Let's play—Gaara's Many Emotions!"

"Um," Neji coughs into his hand, white turtleneck looking very, very blinding in the particular light he is caught in, "sorry to break your bubble… but Gaara doesn't have many emotions." Sasuke raises a noble eyebrow in distaste. The blonde—who smells good, like strawberries and the sun, if the sun had a smell, all warm and yellow and… Naruto-smelling (does this seem familiar?)—seems totally unfazed and, instead, is beaming.

"Exactly!" He shouts so that Itachi, who had retired to his room along with Kisame for who-knows-what ("Sex," Sasuke had said curtly and Neji had covered my ears before I can hear his rather detailed descriptions on what exactly his brother and almost-brother-in-law were up to), could probably hear him, "_That's the point_! The point of the game is to reveal the most you can of Gaara's emotions!"

Neji and Sasuke exchange bemused glances as I turn a slightly paler shade of white. _Excuse me_?

Naruto's arm is fluid as it glides from resting at the top of my shoulder to a little over towards me chest, so I was anatomically forced to suddenly get pushed up next to Naruto's cheek as his other hand started to test me out. "First… Gaara's laughing emotion!" The other two are very engrossed in watching us and I can start to feel my face involuntarily heat up in response to the close contact I am having with the other boy. But before I can fully turn a shade of crimson the shade of hair (which I do when provoked, to my utter embarrassment) I sudden feel this jolt as Naruto's hand reaches the side of my waist…

"_Crap_!" I burst out in a fit of un-Gaara-like giggles, stop immediately in horror, and then start up again as Naruto continues to attack me, "Stop that! You—tee hee! What the--?" Giggling. Sabaku no Gaara does _not_ giggle. I do not—_ha, ha, hee—I DO NOT GIGGLE! _No! Sto—ha tee hee hee! …dammit.

I finally escape the blonde's stronghold, slap a hand over my mouth and stare at him from a safe distance, face as red as a beet. I am safe to assume that Sasuke and Naruto would think the red came from my embarrassment over giggling, _not_ from almost cuddling with Naruto. Neji, however, has this wicked grin stretched over his face and I know immediately that he _knew._ I tell him too much.

"Score!" Naruto says triumphantly, doing a victory dance, "One point for Naruto! Now, what other emotion should I make him express next…?" Neji looks like he's about to suggest something along the lines of _Gaara's-smexed-up-emotion _but stops when he feels the two holes I have drilled with my glare through his skull. The blonde seems to reach a conclusion, grins, and then comes towards me again. I look at him suspiciously at the corner of my eye, body stiffening up in a defensive pose. What was he going to do…?

"Gaara!" he suddenly shouts out in a very defiant voice, "You are a girl!"

I gape at him blankly as he steps forward and pokes me in the chest, "See! Definitely boobs! You think you can bind your chest when you are _that_ size?" Neji and Sasuke look just as bewildered as I do. We've been in the locker room together before, we've seen each other practically naked that time we were at that hot spring and we've swum together a multitude of times. _Girl_?

Naruto continues his tirade, "Plus, your voice is _so_ fake! You think you can really copy a guy's voice just by lowering that feminine tone? Ha! I can't believe you've been lying to us all this time! Don't you trust us?"

I can feel panic bubble in my stomach. _What_?

He looks at me, eyes a dark blue, totally serious. I stare at him like he has totally gone over the edge of sanity, as if he's become as messed up as me and contemplate anxiously on how to bring him back. Suddenly, however, a smile shoots across his face and he starts laughing hysterically, doubling over and turning away from me so I can't see his serious and laughing face mixed together, "Ha! GOT YOU! You fell for it! Score two for Naruto! I got to see Gaara's bewildered face!"

After a moment of ingesting this newfound information, my eyes narrow in a dangerously murderous gesture, hand suddenly snapping up and suddenly in a pretty good grip on the just-a-second-ago-laughing blonde, who stops abruptly when he feels my fingers on his trachea.

"Uh… Gaara?" He squeaks meekly, face suddenly contorted into one of suppressed fear. Neji and Sasuke's eyes are round as saucers, frozen because of what they just saw—a friendly tumble suddenly turned into one "friend" at the edge of killing the other.

I can feel the vein in my temple throb as my whole expression darkens, eyes glinting in a rather malicious way in the dim light, mouth twitching habitually into one of a sickening lust for blood, "Don't. _Ever_. Do. That. Again."

He squeaks.

I slightly increase the pressure I had gripping his neck and he sort of coughs, eyes bulging, fear, Neji's chair flies backwards as he suddenly decided that he has to do _something_ and my smile gets larger, wickeder, the evil expression settling permanently on my face, he's almost here, there's tears in Naruto's eyes—

I suddenly let go, turn around sharply and smack Neji upside the head. He lets out a small grunt of surprise as he topples backwards and I wait for Naruto to regain his breath and composure. I smile again, but this time it's normal, kind, friendly as the blonde looks up, eyes still wide with fear.

"…Got you."

He stares at me a moment, eyes wide as he fingers his slightly red neck, before flying at me in an uncontrolled fury. "_GAARA! _That _isn't_ funny! I _seriously_ thought you were going to _kill_ me, you _IDIOT!" _There are tears in his eyes and even Neji is looking as if he's on the edge of laughing and screaming at me too. Sasuke just looks vaguely relieved, though it changes into one of alertness when I lean down and carefully wipe away the other's tears.

Naruto gapes at me.

Before he can ask the obvious '_what the frick' are you doing?' _question, however, there is a '_DING'._ We all pause.

Sasuke smiles in his own Uchiha fashion.

"Cookies are ready."

Great, the mood was just _totally _ruined…

--

Author's Notes:

**Cover Page for Fanfiction: Gaara and his Guitar (Which I drew myself, bwahahaha): ****_http:// www. deviantart. com /deviation / 44860818 /_** **just take away the spaces and off you go! Yes, the guitar is backwards, but who cares? XD**

GAAAAAAAAAH! And after all that suspense last chapter I switch back to easy-going life XD. Well, shows you how life DOES go on... its not like they REALLY pause and play sad music for a good hour before the heroine and her hero make up. So while Gaara's being emo life is still being horrendously unfair towards him (pats Gaara). And yes, I wrote those lyrics myself, and yes, I am an awful lyricists so don't rant on and on and on about how sucky my verses are, deal with it, pretend its good, everything's fine. And yes, there is excessive cussing this particular chapter. Lots and lots of excessive cussing. Ok, so I can't say how much I love those reviewers/alerters/favoriters out there right now. I'm afraid I'll never finish this and never post an afternote that lists all my supports ;-;. So just for the sake of that I WILL FINISH THIS FANFIC! YOSH! XD Thanks for reading! R/R but no flaming!


	15. Name: Extra

_There are very few good memories from when I was little. Almost none, in fact. Just once, this once, piercing my thoughts: in the garden, sand billowing every which ways, the "garden" consisting of little desert plants with their rough yellow stalks. Not pretty, but alive. I would make a habit of slowly plucking each stalk off a plant until it couldn't stand it anymore and would just wilt over and die. _

_I would always be so upset afterwards._

_Temari-neesan would come out and maybe scold me a little, not daring to fully assault me and my murderous tactics, that killing plants was bad because plants helped us live. Not like I cared much--I never wanted to live in the first place. After maybe crying a little in my bed I would avoid the garden like the plague for a day, a week, a month, maybe._

_But one thing was always the same._

_I would always come back._

_And start to pick the stalks again, one by one..._

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

Extra

--

It can _not_ be seven forty. It is just _can't_. I stare at my alarm clock in rising horror as the seconds slowly tick by.

Seven forty-one.

Damn.

Covers fly, futon is flown halfway across the room and my body, which is still in its night robe, hurls itself into the bathroom in an attempt to fix myself up super speed. After some wrangled tries trying to catch my hair in a ponytail, brush my teeth and take off my robe at the same time, I will myself to calm down. I am calm. Absolutely calm. I am late. Just late. Don't rush. I'm late already, so the damn teacher can wait another ten minutes. It won't kill her.

Slowly I carefully gather my dry, slightly silky (silky… I don't necessarily like silky all too much. It means I didn't take a shower) hair in a tight ponytail slightly below my earlobe, secure it with a white headband, pick up my toothbrush and carefully run it over my teeth, spit, gargle, spit, wash my face with cold splashes of water and some face wash, dry said face, head into my room, sit down on my bed. Silently.

There is absolutely no noise for a good minute or two.

Finally, I scream.

"_FREEEEEEAK!"_

Screw calm. I panicked. I have never been late before. _Never_. A trait both Lee and I share, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it.

_Hyuuga Neji is never or should never be late by any means_. It is just _not possible_.

Said Hyuuga Neji is now running down the hall with a some shorts (which he never wears) and Hinata's (He never refer to his main family members as "sama" in his head—he just doesn't) tang top (because it just happened to be in his closet) and a smudge of face wash on his cheek because he hadn't washed it off completely, frantic and very, very panicky as he runs into various rooms.

"Uncle!" I shout crossly when I spot him in the kitchen, hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder, "Why didn't you wake me up? Hell, why didn't _Hinata-sama_ wake me up?" All is wrong in the world when Hyuuga Neji starts to swear. Out loud. Like now. I am still panicking.

"Neji…" Uncle quirks an eyebrow at my attire, "Yes, you are late, but at least take some time for consideration… are you sure you want to wear those clothes?" I blow a fuse.

"Who cares? Who cares about my damn clothes? _Everyone knows I'm gay anyways!_" Uncle looks very, very surprised that I am shouting at him. Hell, if it was any other normal day I would wake up at exactly six, shower, get dressed, come down for breakfast and say 'hello' politely to my uncle's family, sit down, eat, get back up, get my stuff, walk calmly out the door. Smooth. _Graceful_. I trip over the border separating the kitchen from the hall and go flying into the wall.

Add a slight bruise on the forehead to my list of _things-gone-wrong_.

"Neji-chan's late!" calls a sickening sweet voice from behind me. I try to calm myself down again. Breathe in. Breathe out. One, two, one two, _yoga_. Meditation. _Anything_ to prevent me from strangling my second little girl cousin.

"Hanabi-sama, please go away," I manage gruffly, picking myself up and trying to regain composure. The little middle-school girl-from-hell just smirks.

"Oh, Neji-chan!" she calls out again, sing-song-like, "I never knew you were a girl! And oneechan's tang-top looks _so_ flattering on your form. Are you going on a date with Lee-san or something?"

I do _not_ have the time for this. Instead of stiffly excusing myself and walking (gracefully) on my way, I suddenly grab her by the legs and, with much protest from said leg-grabbed girl, throw her over my shoulder.

"NEJI! _Let me go!_ Let me go _NOW! _I'll tell Daddy! _NEJI!_" I ignore her and carry her to the nearest closet I can find and shut her in it. She gives a squeal of outrage when I successfully lock the door from the outside with an audible click and hide the key in my pocket before my uncle sees. Yes, do not disturb the awesome Hyuuga Neji when he is on a rampage. He will eat you. Rawr.

I stalk into the garage, stick the keys into my car and am about to ram the thing in reverse when I remember that I have to open the garage door. And Hanabi had just so happened to have stolen my garage opener yesterday as a joke.

…the gods are against me.

After five minutes of shouting at Hanabi through a door I _swear_ is made of the most soundproof wood ever because either she couldn't understand me or she was screwing with my head, I finally locate the opener inside the fluffing of her toy bear (I tore its head off instead of using the nice, well-placed zipper… because Hyuuga Neji becomes murderous when he is almost an hour late for school), start the car, and get my ass to class. Thank god.

Now, let's proceed to the office. Which I have _never been in ever before in my life_ except for scholarship and counselor meetings about "my future". At Harvard. Yeah, wonderful.

Just to let you all know, the idea of leaving good ol' California and its sunshine to dark little Massachusetts with its little four feet deep blizzards isn't exactly what I consider a keen idea. Except for gay rights. You can't forget the gay rights in Massachusetts (I am being sarcastic. I don't give a damn about gay rights anywhere. I deeply apologize if I have offended any serious gay-rights-motivated homosexual out there in the world, but I really don't see the point of it when you can be sipping a cappuccino in Starbucks reading your favorite romance novel. Not that I read romance novels. Really.)

Plus, there isn't much of a Japanese community over there in little New England. Not like here, where Konoha, Suna, and other Japanese "counties" are practically their own state (I mean, people are either Japanese, speak Japanese, are of Eastern Asian Heritage, or are mixed blooded). Of course, on the map, they aren't _really_ called 'Konoha' or 'Suna' (I think it's Westwood and Opallio or something immensely American like that) but that's only what the Americans call us. And yes, I know I just contradicted myself by calling myself a part of California but not an American. Because Konoha is one messed up place.

Moving on.

So _anyways_, I find my parking space, screech to a halt (which is against what I was taught, but then aren't you catching the extent of my anger/panic/anxiety attack over here?) and storm into the office. The secretary lady looks at me and obviously does not know my face. She adjusts her glasses.

"And what is the pleasure of—"

"Late slip! NOW!"

She squeaks and hands me a little blue form. Clicking a pen I had dug out of my backpack, I scribble, _Hyuuga Neji_ for name, _9:45_ for arrival and _Miss Nami_ for my teacher before giving it to the secretary to sign her name. After that is done I grab the slip of paper and take off to my next class.

Miss Nami is stunned (Note: we call her Miss because she is American. Her real name's actually Nancy but as most people in this town can't even start to pronounce that name, we have changed it. She thought she was coming to good old Westwood, California, where she'd fit right in, not some weird little piece of Japan. She is still traumatized after that incident where Lee tried to ask her for a pen in Japanese).

"Hyuuga… Neejie?" She still pronounces my name wrong. It's _NEHji_ not _NEEjie_. She's annoying. More annoying then Lee.

Everyone stares. Because Hyuuga Neji, Student Council President and Teacher's Pet, has never been late before. And he has _never_ worn such a—such a—_girly, _purple, form-hugging tang-top _ever_. And was it even possible for a boy like him to look so good in it? Lee waves from the back of the class.

"Neji!" He whispers very, very loudly as everyone can hear him, "Are you feeling better?"

I narrow my eyes. Love him and all, but can he be any _less_ annoying? I wish I could have stuffed my hammer into my backpack in my rush-for-school this morning. Would've been useful in whacking a certain green-clad freak. Taking my seat, I attempt to pay attention through Writing Skills. And then some other classes. And some more.

Drama, I meet up with Gaara. Headphones locked on his ears, black t-shirt and fishnets (he doesn't often wear fishnet… what's up?), black pants, sulking. A redheaded junior, he comes up to my shoulder, intimidates hordes of people every passing day and likes to eat cookie dough ice cream. Don't tell him I know that.

Gaara can be sulking for a number or reasons. Like how his sister and Shikamaru are going at it like bunnies on drugs. Or how his brother Kankuro is annoying the hell out of him, even though I actually like that guy (he's nice, funny, and altogether something that's the opposite of Gaara… maybe that's why they don't get along. Or maybe it's because they're brothers). Maybe it's his nonexistent sex drive. He's been talking about that subject a lot. Or maybe he's just angry at life in general and wants to go and kill himself. Whereas I will weep for him for two years and then go off on my merry way.

See how organized I am?

I _calmly _and _gracefully_ sit down in the chair situated next to the younger boy, whereas immediately Lee sits down on next to me on the other side (during American History he was fascinated by the fact that I shaved my legs… even though he's seen them many times before. I let him run his hand across my thigh three times before kicking him in the foot. Unlike a certain redheaded maniac, Hyuuga Neji is not immune to teenage hormones. He likes having Stupid Boyfriend touch his thigh. However, Hyuuga Neji is a good student. Therefore, letting Stupid Boyfriend grope him in class is not a good idea. Therefore, kicking is the solution. You see? My thoughts go in order. There is logic. I make sense… most of the time).

Gaara's still sulking, headphones almost coming off, which is a big surprise. He keeps putting his fingers to his mouth as if he is about to bite his nails, decides not to, puts them up again, puts them down. It irritates me but I ignore it and instead try to tune in to what the sensei is saying. "…and then the first rehearsal we will have will be next week, Tuesday, so everyone memorize your lines by then. Your first dress rehearsal will be next Thursday. The Fabrics Club and Art Club have been kind enough to make costumes and build the set for us and so if you see one of their members, please say thank you to them. The rest of the period will be a work day and Miranda, can you please come here, I want to talk to you…"

Nothing very important. Lee is hyperactive and jumping up and down shouting something about youthfulness, flowers, and Neji-san in a dress. As usual. I am about to go and inquire my sulky friend about his mood when I stop. Wait, what?

"—and then it is going to be like his bridal dress!" Lee is saying to my "official" girlfriend, Ten Squared (Tenten), "With beautiful flowers and lace strung upon the cleavage area, I think he will make a beautiful woman!" Hyuuga Neji does not like to have his masculinity questioned. There _is_ the fact that I play bottom in my relationship, but I don't think dating Lee has had me question my own manliness. He's girly enough for both of us, at times. I mean, I'm rather feminine, too, but my star swimmer, student council member and "girlfriend" (people really do think that Tenten and I are dating… when I'm really off somewhere with Lee and Tenten's off somewhere with some other guy…) give me a good enough of a reputation to keep the critics from scribbling "fag" all over my locker…

"Lee." Calmly. Hyuuga Neji is a calm, collected person that keeps everything to himself and shows very little emotion. That is how it is. That is how it will always be.

I have fully gained the black-haired bouncing ball's attention. He scoots closer to me so I am so close, his large, round eyes are like large disks of white and black. So maybe Lee wasn't that good of a looker. He's got good points to him as well, however, but I still find it hard to see them all the time, being that half the time he is being so immensely hot-blooded and spontaneous that he is being a total idiot and the other half he is being a klutz and a nerd. At least I know I really, really love him because otherwise I'd label this poor guy as "hopeless" and ship him off to Africa to become some missionary so he wouldn't be so lonely about the fact that no one wanted to sleep with him.

Except me. Because of reasons stated above.

"Yes?"

"…shut up."

"Ok! Under the power of love, youthfulness and all that is right, I shall—oops. Shutting up now." I want to kiss him. Why? Because… I just do.

It's a wonder how Lee is still the dominant one in this relationship. A total wonder. Miracle. _Impossible_. By all logical means I should be the one to ravish him instead of the other way around, as I am _a)_ taller _b)_ smarter and _c)_ hornier. I admit to that last part. I am only human. But _still_, somehow, through some loophole in logic, I find myself playing female yet again and have now concluded that it is destiny's joke on my life and moved on. It doesn't do too well to dwell too much on such things.

I stare at Gaara again. He is, as usual, doing in his _I hate this world and if I could I wish I can just take a knife and tear it into a million bloody pieces_ look, headphones now resting on his shoulders, revealing the bottom half of his ears. He's wearing black studs. He must really be feeling down-to-earth today, poor thing. I don't bother trying to nudge an explanation out of him—he always seems to start his own conversations, not liking it when annoying friends bug him with things for half an hour. Except for Naruto. He always makes an exception for Naruto.

I breeze through Drama with minor injuries (Lee is being too sweet for his good again… he sees Tenten's cut from her tripping down the stares and starts gushing about disinfectants. She won't die. Stop worrying about her and come over here and start memorizing lines!) and off to lunch. I am still dressed in Hinata's tang-top and wearing shorts. People stare.

"You shave your legs?"

Naruto stares at my bare calves. I glare at him.

Little blonde fluff ball does not deserve an answer.

The only real logical reason I can come up with on why I am friends with said little blonde fluff ball in the first place is because he is friends with Gaara and Sasuke, both people whom I am also friends with. Thus, according to the Transitive Property of Friendship, he is now my friend too. Gaara gives me his _freak, dare not answer him and I will personally fry your eyes out and then skewer them into your privates_ look and I sigh, sticking a piece of chicken alfredo into my mouth (Hinata is only capable of making chicken alfredo… and because she insists on making my lunch, I always eat chicken alfredo. Logical reasoning).

"I'm a swimmer, Naruto. That's why I shave."

Fluff Ball just stares.

"You swim?"

Sasuke, who is being particularly distracted today, smirks in his charming Uchiha way and prods the blonde in the shoulder, earning the other's full attention. "You idiot, don't you read the school newspaper? Neji's, like, the star swimmer at this school." Naruto looks vaguely annoyed at being called an idiot, but he has more questions.

"But it's not swimming season now… why do you still shave?"

"Habit."

"…but why?"

"Habit."

"That's not an answer! Something other then habit!"

"If he said something other then habit," Gaara breaks out in a rare spurt of conversation, "he'd be lying." I nod, vigorously.

"Thank you, Gaara."

He just nods, moment of conversation past. Really, that boy has got to open up more. I mean, sometimes you get lucky and he tells you so much in one sitting you reel from the shock and other times you want to throttle him by the neck because he just _won't_ talk. Naruto had whispered to me before that it had something to do with how he didn't talk when he was twelve or something because of something traumatic, and I totally understand. It makes sense. As long as things make sense, Hyuuga Neji is ok with the world.

"Sasuke," I address the younger boy fondly. We've known each other since I was seven and he was six, when we met each other at an executives' party at my house and spotted each other in the corner. We bonded after we decided the party was crap and that a better way to spend our time was to sneak into Hinata's room and tear off the heads of her Barbie dolls. But back to present time. He sort of cocks his head in this _yeah, I'm listening_ way. "I won't make it for the study session today… I know we usually go off to your house and study for the next exam together, unlike _some _people," a glare at Gaara and Naruto, Naruto pouting and Gaara's eyes glazed over as he most probably didn't hear me and was instead thinking to himself again, "but I promised Shikamaru a shogi game yesterday and you know I can't pass that up."

Being the dark and brooding person he is, Sasuke just gives me a sophisticated look that communicates to me about pressure and pleasure. I am about to respond with a complex look of my own when Lee, being the dimwit he is, suddenly bounces towards me with a little stuffed turtle in his hands. I raise a noble eyebrow.

Who gave that to him?

You may have misunderstood my words. That little stuffed thing has got to be the sweetest, cutest, fluffiest, most properly sized turtle ever to be made on this earth, cuddling into Lee's chest with its small, though cute beads for eyes, light green complexion and soft brown shell. He leans forward, big smile and white gleam shining in my face.

"Is not Sakura-san the nicest girl in this school?" he gushes as he shows me his new acquaintance proudly, "She has hand-made such a beautiful gift for me for apparently no reason at all! I am forever in her debt! If I cannot make a doll at the same quality as this one by next month I shall do a hundred push-ups! And if I cannot do that I will do a thousand crutches! And if I cannot do that… I will not have sex for a month and sleep on the couch! "

My eyebrow rises higher in alarm. _What_?

"Lee."

"Yes, Neji?"

"That last part… don't go so far."

He blinks at me owlishly. "But Neji! I must motivate myself to become a better person! I must prevail through this world of darkness with blinding youth and set perseverance! Without my perseverance, what shall I do? Shall the world end? How can I go on with life without setting punishments for myself to follow?" By this time, he's sobbing. "Neji, I love you, my dear flower, but I must continue if I shall be able to continue loving you! Farewell for today… and do not worry! I will quickly finish my doll in a great burst of success and then come back! Good byeeee!" He sort of dances off in a shower of sparkles, flowers, and tears. I sigh, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Your boyfriend's kind of weird, isn't he?" Naruto says, scratching his head. I want to strangle him for stating the obvious but then, Gaara's giving me one of his _touch him and you will definitely find yourself up on the roof with the crows feeding on your body_ looks so I keep quiet (how does he do that? It's not a _touch him you die_ look… it has so many… _gory_ implications! Even _I_ can't do that!)

"Eh." Step one, provide an answer. Step two, sound interested in something else to change the subject of conversation. "Five days away. Battle of the Bands. You ready?" That was good, Hyuuga. Very good. Give yourself a pat on the back. Naruto's chest swells up in his excitement.

"Yeah! Totally!" Doing a little dance, the junior seems genuinely ecstatic about the whole ordeal, "This is great! If we win, we'll have a real chance to go pro—" He stops. Everyone stops. I feel the crush of a guilty conscience falling on top of my head.

Naruto and Gaara, being the two guitarists and true music fanatics, are seriously considering a career in music. Well… Naruto is, and Gaara's going along because he has nothing else planned, he wants to be near Naruto, and the only thing he seems to be good at besides intimidating people is music. This Battle of the Bands thing can really jumpstart their career, but only if the entire band is present. Unfortunately, I am leaving for Harvard.

As I have stated before.

Therefore, they (we) cannot go professional because I am the lead vocal singer… and companies might not want them switching members too often, because that would be extremely unreliable. Thus, I am a problem.

A _problem_.

You don't know how many hours I huddled in a dark corner in my room sniffling about how everyone will be better without me. Ok, so it wasn't really a dark corner and I wasn't sniffling, but it was a passing thought that I don't think of very often and it let me snuggle with Lee a little. Being the smart, yet slightly still hormonal, boy (man?) I am, I obviously took advantage of the situation.

I eat another piece of my chicken alfredo before giving it to Gaara, who was looking at it hungrily. He just scowls a little deeper before carefully adding it to the "mashed potatoes" our cafeteria cook seems to serve up every week. Being that I am an organized and practical person, I go over my schedule planned after school to make sure I didn't forget or leave any holes anywhere.

After the bell rings, I head up to the Student Council Meeting Room for some crap discussion about the production of the School Newspaper, which is losing money rapidly because no one is willing to buy, and the upcoming Spring Fling. Not that anyone really _cares_ about the Spring Fling—it's more like a school tradition now then an actual school event. After escaping the meeting, I head into the gym for the swim meet where I swim about fifty laps with Lee's weirdo teacher, Maito Gai, or something, for an hour and a half. Cleaning myself up, I should be able to pick Shikamaru up from his Aikido Practice on my way home and set up the shogi match all before six thirty.

Hopefully we can finish the game by eight. If not, I will have to unlock Hanabi from the closet and apologize to my uncle, which I would _hate_ to do due to my unequivocal and insensible pride. After that, Uncle will probably shift me off to my room to study for some weird scholarship program test for _more_ money to direct towards my Harvard Fund. Blegh.

Don't get me wrong. The reason the family wants to send me off to Harvard is so that there are more family lawyers coming out of the Hyuuga family to help defend the jewelry business. They reason that it'll be a heck of a lot cheaper then hiring a bunch of lawyers that weren't related to the Hyuuga at all.

I _do_ want to become a lawyer, but for a vaguely different reason. Psychiatrists (Gaara's psychiatrist, maybe) might suggest that my thirst for justice might stem from the lack of it in my childhood, specifically focusing on my father and his death. I was very young at the time but even I knew that it was wrong for that not-related-to-us lawyer to suggest the notion of substituting my father in instead of my uncle when he could have instead pressed the case further and perhaps got it turned around so that no one would have to be killed. I think only Gaara and maybe Naruto knows the full story of the whole affair, Gaara because I was the one that spoke to him about it and Naruto because he'd probably heard it from my baby cousin, Hinata.

Hyuuga Jewelry Inc. is a flourishing business that is, pride aside here, one of the richest companies in Konoha. We live off of business trades and affairs with other companies and often representatives said jewelry enterprises come to negotiate with us about our market economy and other business-related things which I have never really paid much attention to. One specific company which we have been competing with for a very long time finally bowed its head down and let us sign a collaboration project on some new designs the designers had sent in, sending a representative to Konoha to handle the matter. Everything was well and the Hyuuga family, being the ever-so-generous people we are, even let the foreigner stay in our mansion for the night before he set home with the designs.

Everything was perfect. It was just another business affair. Nothing more.

Not so.

In the middle of the night my uncle caught the representative with my cousin in his arms, attempting to kidnap her. It seems like the enterprise's true goal in this "negotiation" was to abduct the heiress to the company and to ransom her for top-secret metal-mixing and design secrets the Hyuuga always kept safe somewhere deep in a folder of lockers (even I don't know where that was…). Well, so what happened next? The representative pulled out a gun and started shooting at my uncle. Uncle had an instinctive reaction. He pulled out _his_ gun and shot the representative once in the head.

He died.

The representative, not my uncle, idiot.

But anyways, that last part is kind of mashed together—the enterprise was "shocked" by the murder and immediately pressed charges against my uncle. Uncle hired a _non-Hyuuga_ lawyer to defend him in court; they have their first trial, Uncle's argument being that he had shot the other in self-defense, blah, blah, blah, lawyer suggests my father take Uncle's place in the death penalty _when the jury has not reached a verdict_, Uncle says no because he doesn't want his twin brother to die, Dad says yes, kicks Uncle and is taken by the court when the jury declares that Uncle is guilty. Why did Dad get taken instead of Uncle? What is so important about Uncle anyways?

Well, I would just love to "rant" and "lecture" (words used by Gaara when he snaps and starts to coldly inform me about my "idiotic teaching habits") about my family's cursed Japanese "main family" and the "branch family" tradition where _back in the old days_ it just _used_ to be a sign that made sure everyone in the town knew you were only semi-human. Nowadays they actually put some weird chip in your brain that kills brain cells. Uh… yeah. The only good thing about being sent to Harvard is that without my damn "main family" members hanging over my shoulder I can go get that stupid chip removed. And maybe go to a tattoo artist where they can undo that tattoo on my forehead too.

Lee says he thinks it looks like a mutated tree. I always end up beating the hell out of him every time he even _squeaks _a word about my branch family status so he has (finally) learned to keep his big mouth shut. I am pulled back to reality. Gaara is staring at me again, piercing jade (cyan? It looks green, it looks blue, his eyes change colors, dammit) eyes scanning me up and down.

"…Gaara?"

"You're wearing that shirt on backwards."

Awkward pause.

Well? What can I do? Take it off and put it back on again in the middle of the cafeteria? Not that I would _ever_ do that as it is against the dress code to run around half naked with only a pair of the _tightest_ shorts _ever_ (these shorts come from two years ago… either that, or they belong to Hinata. The maid is Hyuuga-challenged and always mixes up her and my clothes). I just say, "Ah," and head into the bathroom.

Where I hear noises. _Odd_ noises.

"Aaah! N-no, not h-here…Professor—" Shuffling. More moans.

"What do you mean 'not here' little Silver-kun?" There is a squelching noise and more gasps arise, "You look so hot and sexy against the wall…"

"N-nu…ah!"

I run out, slight blush covering my cheeks. Th-that was… _sick_. Looking down and realizing that I still have my tang-top backwards problem, I shamelessly go onto the girl's bathroom and lock myself in a stall, to the mortification of the girls in there. There is shouting sounding very much like "Eek! Pervert! Someone get the janitor!" and "Freak, wasn't that the Student Council President?" as I strip myself of the shirt, turn it around, and put it back on.

Back in the bathroom… I would recognize that slithery voice _anywhere_. I guess I shouldn't be that surprised that Professor Orochimaru was _still_ being in his usual perverted self, seeing as he had tried to coax me into the classroom alone after school for some "science help" freshman year (which I refused because though I didn't know at that time what he was planning for me, my pride forced to me try to do everything without any help at all) but…ugh. And 'Silver-kun'? Sounded a hell of a lot like Professor Orochimaru's Student Teacher, Kabuto… now _that_ is just… blegh.

Maybe I should tell Gaara about this and see if he still wants a sex drive now.

When I am finally aware that I can be put in detention for "sexually harassing" young women (though anyone with a mind could see that I didn't actually _do_ any sexually harassing and that I just wanted to use a stall) I sneak out the room with my awesome martial art powers (Hyuuga Neji is skilled in everything. Why? Because he can) and coolly walk back to my table, where Naruto and Sasuke are squabbling over Naruto's milkshake.

"That's _my_ milkshake, you damn _bastard_!"

"Since you used my money to buy it it's technically _mine_ you know."

"_DAMMIT! _Stop taking sips out of it! Stupid!"

"Naruto… language."

"Eh, sorry Gaa—_stop that!_"

See how these three get without my cool demeanor balancing them out? Unlike Gaara, I usually tamper in other people's business because I can either work it to my advantage, it's best for them, or I'm bored. I sit down, take the milkshake and give it to Naruto, glaring at Sasuke, who is looking pleased with himself, smirk dancing on his face. I'm not stupid, by all means. I know how Sasuke and Gaara were silently competing over the little blonde fluff ball and how Sasuke had just now gotten himself another point, sharing an indirect kiss with the blonde before Gaara. Not that I know, I'm just guessing. If Gaara had gotten a kiss from the fluff ball he'd probably be bouncing in Gaara-like joy (eyes lit up, hair sticking up like two little ears perking upwards, a little smile quirking the edge of his otherwise straight lips) and I'd know.

Lunch bell rings, Naruto and Gaara go off to whatever class they have next, Sasuke heads off to whatever class _he_ has and I go to the Library to write out what I should do about Hinata and that mutt, Kiba. Being that this is my little cousin we are talking about, things that I "should do" about Kiba usually walk along the lines of getting rid of the little punk. Usually. But ever since I caved in to Hinata actually snapping and screaming at me through my paper-screen door that I was a bastard and that I had no control over her and shouldn't tell her what to do and who to date and she wished that I would get the hell out of her life, I have been, grudgingly, thinking of ways to get them together. Even if Kiba is a nose-picking, dog-obsessed, messy-haired, loud, burping freak that needs his head to be snapped off _right now_ because he kept looking at my baby cousin funny.

I mean, for goodness' sake, Hinata didn't even know what a condom was! Uncle had refused to let her in Sex Ed for the six years everyone else sat in class looking at pictures of penises and vaginas because he was afraid she'd get tainted. Either that or he was afraid she'd faint in class and shame the Hyuuga clan. One or the other. But anyhow, Kiba just didn't deserve her, no matter what she said.

Though I was and am still bitter about the conflict between the main and branch families and I _do_ spend at least a quarter of my time at home bullying her into doing what I want, I can get pretty worked up about my family (Hinata). I know the Hyuuga clan was messed up for hell but it was _my_ clan, _my_ cousin and therefore anything that did not fit _my_ standard did not fit in _my_ world. I sound like Gaara… but then, almost everyone in our little group has their own little emo story, even Naruto, so it's no wonder our experiences might sound similar.

I take out a list I had already made and cross out _Get Hinata to Invite Dog Boy Over (Do Not Let Hinata Go To Dog Boy's House; Has To Be Hyuuga Residence)._ Last night they were playing Halo on her Xbox until two in the morning, keeping me up and cranky. Maybe that's why I had managed to sleep through my alarm clock… I must make a note to beat the crap out of Kiba. Saturday morning, eleven o' six, second floor of the Sago Department Store down the street, a blow to the head with one of Lee's smaller mallets, assuming that the Dog Boy has a slightly softer head then my bumbling boyfriend.

And I sit there, cackling, wondering what I should go and do with my life as I wait for the bell to ring so I can go upstairs and argue with Ten Squared about if we should let the newspaper advertise their existence over the loudspeaker or not and if the Spring Fling should have a green theme, a blue theme or both. I don't _hate_ her; the reason I chose her to be my "girlfriend" is because we both are in the student council, we both beat up on Lee when he is being extravagant, and we have very similar interests. Plus, I can weasel a discount on ice cream at the shop she works at as a bonus.

A common question I get is "Do you have a part time job?" Answer? Yes. What? I sell prints. Whose? Mine. Where? Over the internet. Why? Because if I finally grow a big enough backbone to stand up to the entire board of Hyuuga and use my Harvard Money to go to Stanford which is almost just as good as Harvard _and_ is still in California, close to where we live, I might want to chose a career of art along with being a lawyer as well. Of course, my guidance counselor nags at me that I can only have one and not both and that I have to make _the big decision_ soon, I'm not sure about that. Plus, Naruto and Gaara need Sasuke and me for their band thing… which means… if my Stay-in-California Plan actually works, I'd be working in three fields at once, increasing my stress threefold.

Stress is bad. It's been scientifically proven that it can shorten your life span.

But would I be happier?

Hell yes.

--

Author's Notes: I'm sorry I haven't updated for a long time! And instead of a real chapter I just plug in an extra (bows head in shame). It's because I went on winter vacation with my family to Taiwan and I didn't have access to my story for ten days. And after that I suffered from jet lag and my merciless teachers dumped truckloads of homework right after we got back. However, I have finally finished this! Probably has A LOT of grammar and spelling errors in there-- forgive me! I AM IN SERIOUS NEED OF A BETA! I self-edit all my work and sometimes I'm too lazy or I skip over sections, thus, ending up with incomprehensible phrases! (e.g. I wanted to penetrate porspirate the wall border. What I really meant: I wanted to penetrate the border.)

Don't kill me because of the extra! (avoids rotten tomato) But I felt like all the readers needed a serious break from Gaara's tiring inner monologues and therefore have dumped a short, one-time-only Neji's inner monologue onto you. Neji is a heck of a lot more aware of his surroundings then Gaara: I hope you got a better understanding of the AU world through his eyes . Anyways, I THANK ALL REVIEWERS for supporting me in this! And guess what? I made a new record! Sixty reviews before a flame! YAY! And, by the way, here's a note for all readers:

**Note: I do not take well to criticism. I know I need it and when I know I need it I go to my friends and ask them for their advice and/or ask readers/reviewers to start criticising. However, when I am suffering from emo low-esteem problems and believe myself to be worthless, logging onto ffnet and reading a review that tells me my story sucks is not a good thing. It hits hard. Therefore, I appreciate it but can you try to soften it up a bit? I know I sound so amateur right now, but I can only take criticism when it's covered with sugar. Otherwise I might burst out crying and run around in circles for a whole month (I have quit countless sites because of this). Thank you for reading this brief note.**

Anyways, I'm working on the next chapter (back to Gaara! Yay for all people who love Gaara!) I also need to put another note in here. Just to make it clear (if it didn't become clear in this extra)

**Note: This story is from Gaara's point of view. Therefore, his view on things are distorted. Take Kankuro for example. I love Kankuro. I think he's a cool, all-around, laid-back kind of guy that I wouldn't have any problem hanging out with. However, I must think as Gaara when I write about him. What does Gaara think of Kankuro? Well... he doesn't like him (right now). Therefore, in the story, I have to portray Kankuro as a bad person because Gaara thinks Kankuro is a bad person. And when Gaara and him start getting along Kankuro will start to be portrayed as a good person (for those who love Kankuro, there is a guarentee that this will happen because I am writing it right now). And for all those people who are like: _But Kankuro doesn't really Sleep around Like That _I promise you it will all be explained next chapter :). Another thing is Gaara is OOC because this is the real world and not ninja-Naruto world. He gets help a heck of a lot faster in this world because there is such thing as Government, Protection Laws, and Therapy in this world. Plus, it is discouraged to kill. Therefore, he will act a little different. AU worlds can't work exactly the same as their counterparts in Ninja Land, no matter how close you can get. **

Note: (this is a small note, thus, not in bold) The chapter prologue is in Gaara's point of view. The Extra is is Neji's point of view. Thank you.

(Hands reviewers tickets to the movie: Gaara's Past and his Confession to Naruto) Anyways, I can't thank my reviewers/favoriters/C2ers/alerters enough for supporting me! And hang on to those tickets!


	16. Name: Imprisoned and Set Free

_Speaking of the death was taboo in our household._

Speaking of my stay at the therapedic hospital and what I had done there was something that wasn't even hinted at.

For the longest time, I believed, truly, that all my memories were mine and mine only. However, I now realize, they are my family's as well, no matter how I try to clutch them to my chest. Sometimes even more so.

They remember more things than I do.

Some things I might've forgotten, long ago.

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel _

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill _

--

Old habits die hard.

Especially habits… urges… that have haunted my entire being for the greater part of my life. Even if I have long since given them up or tried to ignore them, change them, they are still there. Hiding.

Because, the body seems to be like a soft foam pad—absorbing the shape of one action and leaving an imprint of it in its skin, even if it is not there anymore.

Sometimes, I close my eyes in the midst of the moon and dream of sweet, sweet blood.

Dripping down my hands, dancing at the tip of my tongue, covering my every being in a shower of crimson, my covering and comfort. I dream of slowly drawing a knife at a woman's neck, licking the spurts of liquid guttering out, I dream of taking a hammer and, ever so delicately, start to carefully and slowly tap it against a man's head until it splits open, a gaping hole, and, most of all, I dream of standing up in a room of blackness. A room of blackness, where all there is in there is a mirror, reflecting my wholesome dirtiness, stains, undignified and I see my reflection grin and reach into his pocket—taking out a gun and putting it to his head.

"Fire." He whispers and there is gunshot.

Splatter.

That is always the moment I wake up, immediately after feeling the sharp pain stab my mind, eyes wide and green and according to Temari, glowing, in the shuddering darkness. The dreams have wormed their way into my head the past couple of weeks, each becoming louder and clearer, more frightening real by the minute, the underlying meaning—_you can go back to the way you were. It's so easy. All you have to do is shed the blood and the rest is history_. And, _no, no, no, no, I'm better now, I'm ok, I don't want to go back to—_but you _want_ to, don't you? You _like_ the smell and the taste of blood, admit you, you'd be happy to shed it again—_no, no, no, no…_

I would sit there, still, eyes still wide open, staring at my ceiling as I softly hum a song—any song—blocking out the voices whispering to me in my head. Because I know if I listen to the voices I will fall into _there_ again, no matter what the case is. Eventually my voice runs out and I shut my eyes, waiting, waiting for them to quiet.

So I can sleep again.

--

"Porn-obsessed weirdo!"

"Out-of-character freak!"

"B.O. DUDE!"

"Eyebrowless FREAK SHOW!"

"Big Nose!"

"Girly boy!"

"What?"

Back up. How did this start again? Oh yes, I remember.

Gaara goes into Kankuro's room. Gaara asks question. Kankuro gets mad. Gaara gets mad because Kankuro starts raising his voice. Starts asking annoying questions. Kankuro is watching a porn video and moaning noises make Gaara even madder. Two brothers start fighting. At first a little, mostly Kankuro. Then, sparks something.

Yelling match ensues.

"Gaara! Brat!" Kankuro somehow manages to grab a hold of a chunk of my red hair, pulling it up so we were face-to-face, "What the hell do you mean when you call me a whore?"

"You _are_ one." I hiss and hook my arm around his neck, successfully grabbing him in a headlock. We struggle a bit, rage swirling around me in a dense cloud because… well, I was still angry at all the other things Kankuro is responsible for and I guess I just cracked. I mean, _really_.

"What's wrong with you?" Kankuro is booming out in his low bass voice, "Reduced to wrestling with your brother? What happened to, _look at me and you die_ and _don't give me a knife because I'll cut your throat_ and all that, huh? Face it, Gaara! _You're not scary anymore_!"

Of course, I am only semi-listening to him and instead retort by kicking him, very forcefully, in the abdomen. He coughs and rams my thin form into the wall, first my back and then my head. We wrestle some more until, finally, Big Sister decides intervene.

"Kankuro!" She screams as she very easily kicks the door open with a slam, "What in God's name are you—" She stops mid-sentence as she finally gets a good view on what we were doing. I wait in anticipation for her next words. Her mouth opens and closes a little before, suddenly, her eyes catch in a malicious green fire that _radiated_ murder.

"_Kankuro_," She hisses in her better-than-thou voice, trembling with rage, "What. Are. You. _Doing._ To. Your. _Brother_?"

Kankuro blinks, mind still caught in the midst of the fight, unaware of what we must look like right now. Me, pushed against the wall, face absolutely blank (which meant that I am acting innocent) with Kankuro straddling my waist, both hands on my shoulder with nothing but his night clothes on _growling_. Wearing nothing but his boxers and a tang-top. Tank top. Tang top. _Tank._ Whatever. (When Neji first described to me what this sleeveless shirt was, he pronounced it like "tang top" and so, there on forth, I always called it that. It is just recently Sasuke had kindly informed me that it is "tank" and not "tang". Meh…it's not like it's life threatening…)both our faces are slightly flushed from exertion (wrestling takes a lot of energy).

"Uh…" his brain is trying to come up with something logical, "…fighting?"

Big Sister snaps.

"_SABAKU NO KANKURO!_ What has that porn done to your brain? _Your brother_? _While_ you're watching that disgusting thing? _HOW DARE YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF GAARA!_" And before I know it Temari has Kankuro in a headlock of her own and his boxers slid down, spanking him with a fan.

I stare.

It has been a very long time since I've seen Kankuro being spanked. With a fan, no less.

I also have to correct myself: Kankuro does not have a hairy butt. I am just "making fun" of him. Whatever "making fun" is (Naruto says it means to joke, Neji says it means to tease and Sasuke just says "Yeah, whatever"). I know because I see it, slightly red because Temari spanks hard. Kankuro is manly enough not to scream or shout or anything like that, just looks pissed off that he, a twenty-year old _grown man_ is being spanked like a five-year old.

He doesn't even try to protest, being that Temari had spanked up ever since they were little, even if she was only a year older. His spirit had already been broken, long, long ago (sounds like he's some kind of slave boy or whatever those porn books call those people wrapped up in chains. I know because he's shown me before. And anyways, it's not that bad. Temari always uses a fan, never a stick or a belt or anything, because she's a girl. Or at least, that's my conclusion). When she is finished, she drags the shamed man onto his bed and huffily takes the remote control, stops the porn video, and flips to a channel of her choice.

"You two just _sit there_ and _stay there_ until you two make up and get along, _got that_? Both of you are almost grown men! Stop fighting with one another like you're still whimpering, sniveling children! _Understood_? Good!" Take note that most of the shouting is directed at Kankuro because Temari would never ever, in her right mind, call me a whimpering, sniveling child if she feared for her life.

We both sit still as she forcibly slams the door so hard my ears ring and the thousand necklaces hanging on Kankuro's neck cling in a jarred cacophony of noises. Big Sister is finished with her mission. Two Brothers are forced to sit in Older Brother's room and watch… Pokemon.

There is absolute silence from us as we watch the show intently, Kankuro sometimes making snorting noises and scratching his butt, wincing because it seemed as if it still hurt. I just sit, fascinated, because I do not often watch these kind of shows—mostly I watch what Temari watches because she was the one I always tagged along to watch with in the first place, like Judge Alex or Full House or something like that. These… are these _cartoons_?

There is just the buzz of the TV as I lean forward, intently looking at how plain the colors were on their faces, how big their eyes were, how _high_ their voices were as Kankuro just shuffles around like he wanted to go but didn't dare to because he feared the wrath of Temari.

"…James is definitely gay."

I glare at him from the corner of my eyes, all green-fire and malice. "Do you have anything against gay people?"

He looks mortified that he had just said that out loud. "N-no, no, no, of course not, I'm just _saying_…er…" He scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish and frightened at the same time. "I…I like gay people!" I just give him a look that says, _oh, really? _

I squint harder at the screen.

"…what is that?"

"What's what?"

"That yellow thing."

"…Pikachu?"

"…"

"…uh," he asks even though he knows he might be stepping over invisible boundaries his small mind cannot comprehend, "why?"

"…it's humping Ash."

Silent pause.

"…you're right."

Who knew one can have a brotherly bonding session while watching one of the most cheesiest, cutest, fluffiest cartoon show ever created on the face of the earth?

We spent the latter part of our evening commenting on how Ash is too stupid, Misty is too fat, Brock is definitely gay for James and vice versa, Jesse's boobs are too big for a frickin' _twelve year old_, Pikachu should really go get a life and stop humping Ash when that poor Raichu is _obviously_ heads over heels in love with it, Todd should shove that camera up his behind and Gary should just go and jump off a cliff.

Kankuro actually relaxed enough so that he slapped me across the black as we both doubled over in laughter when Pikachu was jumping on top of its other mini-clones in this not-so-innocent fashion. Temari kicks the door open once more to see what we were doing because it is not very often you heard loud noises that were not violence-related coming from Kankuro's room when the Sabaku brothers were grouped together.

"Kankuro, what are you—" She stops to see us all over each other in a fit of giggles as she, with her pure, female mind, watches the innocent little Pokemon playing with its partner in the wild by pouncing on it, and wonders what we males are thinking. Narrowing her eyes, she gives Kankuro _the warning glare_ and shuts the door behind her.

"You know." I say, after I recover myself enough to see that the Pokemon marathon has ended. "I rather like that show." My brother just stares at me as if I had gone even more insane then I already was.

"Really?"

"Yes. James is pretty hot."

Kankuro looks blanker.

"Uh…"

The credits start to roll and I fall back on his bed, looking at the painted, nonsensical ceiling as my brother turns off the television. Kankuro gets up and starts rummaging around one of the piles in his room (I have mentioned the condition of his room… I can barely walk through it without stepping on something remotely piled up). Temari opens the door again, as she magically knows when the huge Pokemon marathon thing is over due to her awesome sister skills.

"I have come up with the perfect punishment!"

Kankuro and I exchange glances.

"…wasn't that our punishment?"

"No!" Temari holds up a little round, mechanical buzzer-like object, grinning in the traditional Sabaku way (all of us share this trait too… along with liking tea, having natural eyeliner, closing one eye when we get annoyed or pissed off and having a slight, Suna-like accent), "That was just an intermission so I can come up with a truly evil punishment! And yes! Gaara, you are being punished too!" I raise my brow from my slightly-not-looking-at-her position on the bed.

Kankuro's face has the pale look of utter dread. "And… what is our punishment?"

Temari responds by very loudly slamming the buzzer thing onto the door of Kankuro's room. She flips a switch on and suddenly large red letters flash onto the screen, numbers, a five and two zeros. "Both of you… will have to stay in this room for an _entire day_!" Kankuro squeaks.

"Together?"

"Together."

"B-but—"

"And I'm taking away the television too. Why'd you move it from the living room to here, anyways?"

"Because Gaara says he doesn't like porn and the living room is really public so I had to move it here so no one can see it and please, please, please, not this punishment, I don't think I can survive being stuck with Gaara for an entire day, no offence, Gaara, but I might get him mad and then what? I'm gonna get killed and Temari, you can't, you just can't, I-I'll do anything, I'll do the laundry, I'll do the dishes, I'll wash the sheets, I don't care just—"

"Just shut up." I say and my brother's mouth snaps closed, eyes darting back in forth in a nervous manner. Temari just frowns.

"Kankuro, stop acting so childish. The big problem between you and him and the reason you two don't really get along is that both of you don't take in consideration that both of you have _changed_. Kankuro, Gaara isn't maniacally insane anymore, he won't kill you if you just pushed him or something. Gaara, Kankuro isn't that obsessed and the last time he had a BO problem was when he was a sophomore in high school, before I introduced him to the wonders of deodorant bars. I want you two to spend time with each other for twenty-four hours so you can start _getting along _and _understand_ one another better. And this buzzer thing."

She taps the screen with a perfectly manicured fingernail.

"It has a five minute time limit. It'll only let people go through it ten times, so don't you dare think you can just walk back and forth through this room without once talking to each other. If you go over ten times, or if you don't come back before five minutes, it'll not only let out an ear-piercing shriek but it'll ring my cell phone so I _know_ you broke the rules. And when I know you broke the rules of punishment…" Temari looks dangerous.

"There is _more_ punishment." We look at her, Kankuro in horror and me, blank. She smiles sweetly.

"I'll bring you dinner so you won't starve. I'll call in to school to say you're sick. And the ten-times-going-out thing is just for bathroom breaks, not for other things. I'm giving you the laptop, too. So you won't die of boredom. Ok?" Before either of us can say a word she disappears and reappears with the Sabaku family laptop, places it on Kankuro's tightly disheveled desk, and pops back out of sight. "Good luck!"

The door slams.

Silence.

"…um." Watching television together wasn't so bad. We didn't really have to truly, really _talk _to each other, just watch and laugh at the funny parts. But this? Kankuro is cowering in a nest of old homework assignments he has yet to throw away. I cross my eyes.

"So… are you going to clean up your mess and have me sleep on the floor or will I sleep with you on the bed?"

"W-what? There's no way I'm sleeping with you!"

Kankuro hugs himself and rocks back and forth, looking at the wall, the papers, the books, worriedly as if he wanted to pretend that Sabaku no Gaara was not, right now, lying on his bed debating if they should sleep together or not. Said Gaara wonders what "lie to sleep not dream but be awake" means because he is reading what Kankuro has written on the ceiling. Who knew the brown-haired man was poetic?

"So what? We're brothers."

"Barely!" Kankuro growls and gets up, attempting to pace but failing because of the mess on his floor, "Gaara! W-we have to get out of this somehow!"

I don't say anything. Why? Because I really don't care. Stay with Kankuro and talk to him a bit? I really might not like him but I wasn't some idiot that was stubborn enough to not take other people's advice; I knew Temari was right in what she said. Thus, if I solved this whole brothers-from-hell thing, I'll have one more thing off my list of "Things to Worry Over".

"Don't try. You want to be spanked again?"

From the silence my comment met, I conclude that he doesn't.

"What do we do?" He whimpers. I know Temari had trapped us together just so that I can be proven that Kankuro is not as bad as he seems, but can he just be a man and not fall down into heaps of tears whenever something goes wrong? Of course, there is the fact that the only time he seems to fall down into heaps of tears is whenever _I_ get involved, but that's really besides the point.

I sit up from my spot on the bed and, giving the room a scrutinizing glare, say, "Clean this up."

"What?"

"Clean. This. Mess. _Up_."

Kankuro stares at me for a moment before, very suddenly, latching on to the nearest item closest to him in absolute possessiveness, "No! You can't! It's not a mess, it's my _life_!" I set my feet on a stack of files that could've been about anything from medical records to lists of erotica, and slowly work my way towards the shivering man, who is now being eccentrically crazy, grabbing onto everything and piling it onto his lap, not wanting his insane little brother to destroy them all.

"It is junk, Kankuro. Get rid of it."

"Never!" He screams, gets up, and starts running away from me. Because we are trapped inside the same room, we end up going in circles, him running and me walking, until all I had to do was turn around and grab him.

"AH!" Taking the crumpled heaps of paper in his arms, I calmly take my new hoard onto his bed and, with utter precision directly in front of him, I pick up one piece of paper, shred it, take another, shred it, another, shred it… Kankuro is grappling with my feet to no avail, pleading with me with actual tears rolling down his cheeks, "Stop it! Please! I'll do anything! S-stop tearing up my babies!"

I stare at him.

"Kankuro."

Sniff. Sniff. Whimper. "What?"

I dangle a piece of magazine cover in front of him, featuring a hot guy with two girls dangling off each of his arms with the large words: "Be Sexy Fast" imprinted onto their hips, "What is this to you?"

"That," he declares as he attempts to snatch it and I pull back, "is _my_ treasured piece of artillery!"

"Artillery?"

"I use it to hit Temari with."

"…" I stare at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "…why?"

He looks the other way, anywhere where this big red blob is _not_ sitting on his bed, "uh… um… er…" Concluding that it is the other way around and that Kankuro is a big black blob, I take another sheet of paper and tear it. My older brother immediately collapses and starts begging again.

_Rip_.

"Nooooo!"

_Rip, rip, rip. Tear. _

"Please! Please! What did they do to deserve this?"

_Teeeeeear_.

Sob. "My babies! _My babies_!"

I look at an old, foul-smelling plastic potato-chip bag from centuries ago with distaste. "You still want this?"

"Yes!" He reaches up to grab up to no avail as I just raise it higher and look at it, wrinkling my nose. "It is part of my Kankuro Two Doll! How dare you rip up my Kankuro Two Doll?" I just blankly stare at him.

My brother is, as most people know, a puppet-drama fanatic. When he was little he'd make a little puppet stand out of four boards of wood against a scrubby old tree and perform puppet shows for me behind the little lean-to. He hand-made all his puppets and drove Temari up the wall with the expenses of all the materials (wood, chain-saw, workshop, fabrics, metal, and a whole lot of other things) and his obsessive habit of spontaneously locking himself into his room for hours on end without coming out even once to pee. When he couldn't afford to make new puppets (because I had a just as spontaneous habit of smashing them into pieces) he performed the shows himself and sometimes dragged me into helping him act out some parts. Of course, this was all before our huge brotherly rift gaped open.

I stare at the small bundle of glued-together trash I had picked the potato bag out of. Taking a rather violent hold of its head, I lift it up so that I can get a good picture of what it might be like. A basketball for a head, condoms for its eyes and a smile drawn on with a Sharpie, torso made of masses of newspapers and magazines glued together, arms and legs, dangling beer cans with strings, random potato chip packages and cigarette boxes glued onto them. Strings, everywhere, a web of tangles and knots linking back to an old-fashioned wooden spoke-thing. I stare at it.

"…what is it?"

Kankuro abandons begging me as I, unfortunately afterwards, notice his obsessive sparkle twinkling in his eye. Clasping the thing to his chest, he drags me over to his bed, sits me down, and then passionately decides to spew the true meaning behind being a puppeteer and how it chases people's lives and blah, blah, blah… "This is my representation of American's corrupt boy…" blah, blah, blah, "…all the things I made this out of are things that lead to the path of destruction. Though it may not seem like it, beer can cause long time addiction…" blah, blah, blah, "…and because of this I actually modeled it after myself to play it in my new play, _Broken Feathers_…" blah, blah… wait, what?

"After yourself?"

"I'm not that stupid, Gaara…" Kankuro puts his head in his hand and looks at his other hand, forlorn, "I know I try too hard to be normal… watch porn. Talk on the phone. Walk around the home in boxers. It's just a way to 'express' myself because I—we—never had a normal childhood when we were little." He makes little quotation marks with his fingers, "'I crave normal' is what your psychiatrist would say. It's true. I do a bunch of things I wish I'd never done just because I wanted to 'fit in' and be just an average guy…" I look at him. He looks at me.

He takes out a cigarette from his pocket.

"Cigar?"

He backs away as I reach to snatch it.

"Don't smoke."

"Why?"

"Because we're stuck in the same room together, idiot." A pause. "You'll also set off the fire alarm." Kankuro's window had long been nailed shut because of his aggravating habit of throwing bricks at the paper boy in the morning. Once it actually hit the poor boy on the forehead and had immediately cracked his skull, ending with eleven stitches and a huge lawsuit that Temari still hisses over once and a while. Because the foot tall floor of trash very snugly buried the crack underneath the door, there was literally almost no ventilation in the room.

How did he breathe in here?

"I don't care." He fumbles with a lighter he'd taken out of his pocket and I, seeing my chance, suddenly snatch the thing from his fingers. He yelps. "Hey, give that back! Great, first you destroy my babies and now you're going to steal my stick-of-pleasure?"

"Stick-of-cancer," I answer him as I examine the said cancer-stick in my hands, "and shouldn't your stick-of-pleasure supposed to be your dick?"

Kankuro's eyes bulge out of their sockets as he stares at me, goggle-eyed, "Y-y-you—you—you—"

"I—I—I," I mimic him in monotone, "What?"

"You said dick!"

"You want me to say it again?"

"W-w-w-w-what? B-but you're not s-supposed to know—"

"Anything about sexual intercourse?" I aim a glare at the laptop, as if Kankuro's beloved Porn TV would suddenly drift out into existence, "With that erotica going about? We also have something called Health in school, you know." Kankuro snaps his mouth closed.

"You're not supposed to talk either!"

I narrow my eyes and, ruthlessly, smash the cigarette into a dozen pieces with Kankuro's century-old dictionary. "So?"

"So, what? Stop talking! Start sitting down and glaring!"

"You like it when I do that?"

"No! Yes! No—well, yes, I guess, no! It's better then you suddenly getting up and acting normal!"

I'm getting pissed off. "What's wrong with acting normal? And if you haven't noticed I started getting more social when I was thirteen! It's not sudden! You just don't notice these kinds of things!"

"Stop shouting at me!" He grabs my shoulders, "You're not supposed to shout!"

Now, I am not a boy who likes to have people tell him what he should or should not do. Having his sibling, an older sibling, no less, yelling at him that being normal was weird that being an oddball murderer mute schizophrenic freak is good is not a very good thing to do. Thus, what happens?

I sock him. Hard. Right in the face.

Expression frozen in one of stiff surprise, he flings into the wall with a good smashing noise, gently ooze off and lie, limply, onto his bed. I flex my fingers as I look at him.

Good. No blood.

Ha, I'm getting better at this.

"Gaara!" Temari voices filters through Kankuro's rather sturdy door that prevented Temari from hearing us fight, "I heard something! Is everything ok?"

"Fine," I answer in a loud yet muttering tone, "The lamp just fell over." This seemed to be a rather acceptable answer because Temari bothered us no more. After a few minutes of ripping up more useless junk from Kankuro's pile of trash and placing it outside the door (we can put stuff out as long as we ourselves do not leave), I start to, admittedly, get worried. Why hasn't Kankuro moved yet? He wasn't that weak to be shot down by one measly punch like that (usually he can last three… or four. But then, this was one of the first times I hit in the face, so…)

Cautiously approaching his still limp body, I stare at his dark brown locks, mussed everywhere because he had a just as bad habit of not combing his hair as I do, tank top rolling up so I can see some of his stomach, boxers, thankfully, still on his hips. People who first meet us Sabaku siblings are fascinated when they see us together. We have, though we do not like to admit it, very many similarities.

Temari has Mom's blonde hair and the Sabaku green eyes that we all have, of varying shades, terrible cooking skills, an interest in painting and photography, a loud and demanding voice, a cruel sense of humor, a thirst for cream, a nicely refined nose that arched downwards, a stocky yet curved body shape, and perfect cheekbones.

Kankuro has Father's mussed brown hair, dark, dark green eyes that only seemed to dilate enough to see the color when he was trying to be sad, equally if not worse cooking skills as my sister, a sweet tooth, a bellowing voice that whined more often then not, an acute interest in acting and puppets, a thirst for cream, an unique sense of humor when there really isn't anything to be laughing about, a large, prominent nose, muscular and full-grown form resulting from hours at the local gym, and has two left feet on the dance floor.

Me, red hair that comes from Lord-knows-where (Temari once suggested that it may be because Mom had a trickle of Irish blood in her, but even the Irish's hair don't go as red as this), pale, cyan-green eyes that change color in the light, good cooking skills, a horrible hand in social circles, a thirst for cream, a cynical if not odd sense of humor, quiet, hoarse voice that can very suddenly explode into one of loud, clear shouting, a very large sweet tooth which I hide as much as I can, an interest in music, the same noble nose as Temari, lithe, slightly muscular form and such bad feet when it comes to dancing I plop myself onto a chair and refuse to get up.

Even if Naruto begs me with a cookie.

Which he has done before. I have not given in.

Well… I _did_ give in after Naruto offers his hand towards me to dance. He had such a heart-torn expression resting on his features; how could I have said no? Of course, Kankuro would probably be saying that Gaara "should not" be gushing over his best friend and should be plotting the annihilation of mankind. He has such a frozen view on people, sometimes.

I reach over and poke him. He doesn't budge. I reach to poke him again when suddenly his hand lashes out in lightening speed, latches onto my arm, and suddenly flings me over him and onto the bed, hard. Needless to say, I am surprised.

"Eh—"

Before I can properly say something, I find myself pinned down by… lots of weight (I have long since given up keeping track of Kankuro's weight… he gains it, he loses it, he gains it back again, it's just not _stable_ enough to remember). Nose-to-nose, I decide that if he doesn't get off me soon I will be flatter then paper. Before I can act on this conclusion, however, Kankuro attacks me first.

"Rawr!"

"Eek!" Ok. I did not just squeal like a girl. Of course, I'm not scrambling to get Kankuro's hands off my sides or neck either, and neither am I giggling like I am high off of Sharpies. Merciless, my brother manages to get a brush at all my spots—neck, side, armpit, under-the-knee, stomach—without any trouble, as my body has yet to change much from when we were younger.

Dammit I _hate_ it when we—he, mostly—play the tickling game.

"The itsy bitsy spider, climbs up the water spout." Another bout of giggling. I try to turn around and kick him off but, unfortunately for me, his weight proves a definite advantage in the who's-on-top-and-who-gets-tickled factor and keeps me under him and harassed. "Down comes the rain and washed the spider out," I am going to _kill_ him. After I stop not giggling. I am _not_ giggling. I mean, I admit I've gotten more normal over the years, but Sabaku no Gaara does _not_ do normal giggling. Insane giggling is ok. Normal giggling? No. "Up comes the sun and dries up all the rain and the itsy bitsy spider climbs up the spout again."

"Shut _up_," I finally manage to kick him so that his weight is finally off my back and my lungs can finally expand with air, as it was both crushed from the heaviness and sore from giggling—_laughing—_too hard. Kankuro falls onto his back and lays there.

Recomposing myself in a sitting position, I don't bother to redo my hair or put on a glare or anything like that. I mean, why would I want to save my reputation from my own brother? He's seen me naked on the beach, squash my man-parts, get chased by clowns, crying under a bridge, pee in a tree, poop in a bush, steal Temari's tampons, chase Itachi with a knife when he took a pair of my boxers during his stay here, wander around the house in my almost completely naked and indulge myself in cookie dough ice cream. I am not sure if there are any more things I can do to further lose my reputation with him.

Except for the murdering part. You can't forget the murdering part.

Kankuro takes out another cigarette. I turn my head enough to glare at him from an angle, the light from the window at the perfect shade, reflecting my whites and irises in what I know must be a terrifying manner because it burns holes through whatever is in my way. Kankuro shivers and tucks the cigarette back into his pocket.

Silence, and then a spurt of conversation.

"I didn't know you were into smoking."

"I am. Er, not addicted or anything. I just do it after school, so Ne-chan can't see me or anything."

"You'll get lung cancer and yellow teeth."

"I _said_ I'm not addicted."

I stare at him. Noting the dimming light shining through the blinds, I grunt as I lift up one of Kankuro's legs off my lap and push it over his other one. I have enormous strength, but it only seems to shine through when I get psychologically insane. Don't ask me why.

I don't know.

"Kankuro."

"Eh?"

"What time is it?" Without getting up the brunette reaches a hand over to his crowded desk and effortlessly tosses a black, digital alarm clock in my general direction. Aikido skills give me good reflexes. Peering at the neon digits, I calculate the amount of hours left I have stuck with my brother. Including sleeping hours.

I'll probably get insomnia tonight.

"…twenty more hours." I give it back to the sprawled man, who looks at it with a What-The-Heck-Am-I-Do-To-With-This look. "What are we going to do?"

"Open up and talk about our inner secrets?"

"…" I prop myself up against the wall his bed leaned up against, covered in Kankuro's scrawl of poetry and artwork, glancing upwards again at the decorated ceiling. "That sounds like… a very good idea."

He looks like he has just swallowed a ball the size of the Earth.

"Um… I was being sarcastic?"

Too late.

I allow a slow, agonizing smirk to consume the lower half of my face.

The game has already started.

--

Author's Note: Slight reference to Pokemon in this chapter (avoids rotten tomato) I'm sorry for the almost crossover! Waaaaah! Um, anyways, are you people happy? Usually I have like three or four scenes in a chapter. Guess what? ONLY ONE BIG SCENE! The first one doesn't count--it's really more of a prologue. Trust me--big scenes are good because that means I'm focusing enough to make this story get somewhere. I KISS ALL MY REVIEWERS! Thank you for supporting me! And... whateverhis/hernameis... I guess I should thank you for getting me back on track with my work.

Lol this chapter could really be taken as Sandcest, but I intended it to be more of a brotherly bonding moment XD. For those who like sandcest, you think that. For other people who like GaaNaru, we stand here at the sidelines wondering what Kankuro has anything to do with this, lol...

Next Chapter: The meaning of the title of this fic, revealed! What in the world does "Breaking the Music" have ANYTHING to do with this story? Stay tuned!

(yes, the Naruto confession has yet to come XD)


	17. Name: Going Out

_I am chained to the bed stand. Cold, biting handcuffs piercing my wrists, tying them together, forever, a binding agreement that I have not consented to, as I writhe on the floor in agony. Where? Why? How? Dammit, I have to get _out_ for goodness' sake and if there is a God _please help me

_Steps. Dark, pattering, hollow, the shuffling of a lab coat and maybe the cling of a smile. Everyone tells me that there are no sounds to smiles, that smiles don't make noise. But they are wrong. I can _hear_ the smile. No one can tell me I can't hear it._

_Pitter-patter. I am writhing harder, faster, I want to get out, get out, dammit, let me go, the pattering is coming faster—the door opens, a hand, a dark cold hand, on the door knob, that _cling, cling, cling_ of a smile, stretching upon a cruel face as I open my mouth and—_

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

There is a time and a place where all siblings must confront each other with tedious questions following the lines of: "What is the meaning of life?", "How can I be a better person?", "I want to have sex but I don't know how" and, "What is sex?"

Being that I am already seventeen and Kankuro may or may not be twenty (he might be nineteen… I don't remember) we are, as brothers go, late bloomers in this region. Things such as murder, insanity, polar opposite personalities and other things might have contributed to this, but even so, we were late. Very late. Opening up and talking about inner secrets is probably not one of the things on Kankuro's list of "things-to-do".

"Uh… um…" Kankuro's face has turned a very funny shade of white, his hands in his mouth as he starts to bite his nails with merciless persistency, looking this way and that, knowing full well that there was no way to escape the situation beside jumping out the closed window and killing himself on the concrete pavement. He slowly gets up from his laid-back position and sort of curls up in a little ball in the corner of the bed, opposite of me, where I just continue to smile at him. I find my smile unnerves people.

"So, Kankuro…" I tilt my head, copying the countless numbers of psychiatrists and psychologists that have come before me to try and "cure" my illness, the way they smiled their fake smiles and nodded their fake nods, their cold eyes looking at my form, thinking only of the money, the way they would pronounce every word clearly like I am doing now, "What has school life been like, nowadays?"

"G-good…"

"Like what? What did you do yesterday?"

"Had fun."

"Had fun where? I can't help you if I don't know what's going on, Kankuro. Let's start in the morning. After you woke up, you did what?"

"Gaara," Kankuro is staring at me, pupils large enough to see the deepness of the green there, "Gaara, stop that, that's just scary."

"What's scary?"

"T-that voice! Have you finally gone over your head? You sound like one of your frickin' shrinks for God's sake!"

"Now, now," I reprimand him, having way too much fun teasing him, "There are some people out there who are against using the Lord's name in vain, Kankuro. I suggest you go and be more considerate of others by stopping small habits like these. Then, I am sure; you will be able to make more friends at your university." Kankuro suddenly lurches forward and tackles me.

Seeing that I have been tackled by my brother at least four times today and that in itself should be considered "improvement" because five years ago the most he would do was grab me by the collar, I felt, oddly, too lazy to fight back. Instead, I landed with crash onto the wall next to his pillow, hissing a bit before finding myself suddenly covered with blankets. Before I can even mention the oddness of the situation, I find more and more coverlets piled on top of me, Kankuro being the one that is suffocating me, until there is black. Just black.

"Kankuro," my voice sounds muffled, even to me, "Kankuro, what are you doing?"

"Killing you." is the sound reply. There is silence.

"Why?"

"You're being insane. I have to exterminate you before you start killing people again."

"I won't."

"How would I know?"

"I won't. Now let me out."

"No."

"What would Temari say if she found out you'd suffocated me?"

"She'd be happy."

A pause.

"Why?"

"You'd be out of the way. You won't ever have the chance of killing people anymore. All those people who you've destroyed will finally get their revenge. You deserve to die."

I think Kankuro has gone over the edge. Not only is he being extremely immature, he is also being accusing in a manner that I find twitchingly annoying. I feel my own fury chill my skin until I am sure this body of mine is not mine any longer, instead, a cold figurine of ice that has been swallowed by anger. My eye twitches, once.

"I don't believe that."

Yes, I do— I fear it, on some level. I've always feared it, somewhere, some layer, deep inside my heart that my siblings actually feel nothing for me and that I am a nuisance, a bug that needs to be squashed. However, the way Kankuro says it makes me want to be like a child and retort back, defiantly, with all the real reasons I know why he is definitely wrong. Real reasons I know why I shouldn't fear it.

"Really? What are you going to do?"

"I don't believe that. I know you don't believe it either. Temari's been trying too hard to put this family together to just suddenly welcome a death of one of her little brothers. I won't kill people, so let me out."

"If you want to get out, fight me."

Anger, flicking onto the surface, slithering into my voice. "I'm not fighting you."

"Why not? If you don't, you'll die."

"Let me out, Kankuro. I'll kill you later."

"You said you won't kill people. And I'm not letting you out."

"I'm 'kidding', you idiot. It's a waste of energy for me to fight when you can just easily lift off the covers, saving us both a lot of energy and time."

"Nope. Die, die, die."

"_Kankuro_."

I know for sure that I can easily throw off the sheets and pummel Kankuro into the bed stand, being that I am very literally stronger then he is and the blankets weren't _really_ that heavy. I also know that I can't die inside the coverlet mountain anyways because that idiot of a brother isn't even pushing down on top of me. I still have ventilation.

In other words, I can stay here forever. But I wanted to get _out_ because it was so damn hot in here and I really didn't feel like beating my brother to a pulp. I used too much energy wrestling with him, laughing, getting tackled and submitted to bouts of chase-the-Kankuro to get up right now. Besides, this way I get the bed. And unless Kankuro wanted to sleep with me tonight, he could just go and rot on the floor for all I care.

"Kankuro."

"Yup?"

"I hate you."

"That's nice. I hate you too."

"I hate you so much that I am willing to slice your body in five pieces using Temari's new kitchen knife and hang your leftovers on the University flag stand for everyone at school to see."

"…really?"

"If you don't let me out now."

A pause.

"You serious?"

I shift a little, feeling Kankuro's knee at about where my own was. Swiftly hooking his leg with mine under a layer of covers, with a yelp from the surprised man, I answer, "Yes. _Now_."

I feel the blankets come off my back and I crawl out, hair mussed and tangled, Kankuro sitting on his floor of trash staring out the window, frowning. Don't ask me how he managed to get from "landing onto floor" to "sitting onto floor" because I seriously do not care. Instead, I decide that I should pursue my sick curiosity for knowledge and lay down beside him, peering upwards because with my body strewn onto the floor like this, he looks like a giant.

"Have you ever done drugs before?"

"…what?"

I glance at him from an angle, purposely highlighting my face with the dim, dim light that created more shadows then light now. I have way too much fun accenting my gestures with these odd "effects". Ha. "You know… weed… coke… meth…"

"I know what drugs are," he snaps in guilty annoyance, reaching up to bite his nails again, "I was just surprised. Uh… let's see…" He starts counting off fingers, "I tried weed in middle school… did it for a week and quit because it smelled so bad. Did coke in sophomore year and decided that it hurt too much… meth just makes me feel funny… E gives me a headache… and yeah. I've tried lots of them but never stuck."

"I'm surprised that you didn't get addicted." True. I never really pinned my brother down as a druggie but yet, here I am, hearing about his druggie adventures in his teenage years, which never really led anywhere but _still._ "And after all that you picked up smoking?"

"I'm _not_ addicted," he declares defiantly, though his fingers twitch near his pant leg as if aching to pull out a cigarette and light it. Which I will never let him do because not only do I despise the smell of cigarette smoke but I also know I could cancer from second-hand smoking. If it wasn't for that I'd let Kankuro smoke to his heart's content, though I know in a few decades he'd probably be lying on some hospital bed with four cancers in his lungs. Ha.

Ok, that wasn't funny, but I think about my siblings dying too often in so many scenarios I try to make it as enjoyable as I can. Kankuro twitches again before turning towards me, face large and bulky in the light. I know my sibling wasn't all that in shape but all his out-of-shape-ness is essentially highlighted in the rays. Not that he is fat or anything, it's just that… mm… I've never been good with words. Let me just create an example instead.

I have to ask Temari to never ever let Kankuro take a school photo in blue light. _Ever_.

"You?"

I sort of bristle. "Me what?"

"You do drugs?"

"Nope."

A thin silence that radiates "impending doom". I don't even know why I'm angry. If Temari was any lesser being that did not know that certain things pissed me off real bad, she'd tell me I was acting like some bipolar PMSing girl who clawed every man that she liked and got in the way. And as Kankuro is subconsciously under my "not kill" list (in my world "not kill" is almost the same thing as "people I like", even if I insist that it is totally not true) he is going to be clawed.

Badly.

"…not even once?"

This brunette needs to buy a zipper and learn how to zip up his mouth at the right times. Even if installing a zipper onto his lips would be extremely painful and bloody, I can just tell him it makes the girls swoon. If girls liked guys with knobby white things on their lips that might potentially catch in their teeth when they tongue. That would just turn a make-out session inside out, what with all the blood and the zippers and the _fluids_…

Ok. Train of thought ended. I seem to be losing my sanity-of-thought much more frequently for the past several days, for various reasons. It's either Kankuro is rubbing off on me or I need to get back on my meds.

Claws are extending.

"_No_."

"Oh."

More silence, where I try to calm myself down by thinking of Lee in one of Neji's dresses (Neji owns dresses… he insists they are for his acting but I am seriously thinking he is growing a girly fetish…) dancing the Macarena covered in mud. _Not_. _Working_. Kankuro scratches the back of his head.

"So… Gaara."

I try not to sound like I'm growling, which I do when I get insanely pissed off to the point of no return. "_What_?" The other man scoots away from me, quivering. He is probably somewhere on the edge of "Gee, let's treat Gaara as if he is a normal human being" and "Freak, he's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me!" I know I shouldn't be on the verge of insane-PMSing right now. It really wouldn't contribute any good to "brother bonding" time, after all. I sigh, gulp that growling snarl down my throat and struggle to regain composure.

"Ok, ok. I won't kill you. What?" Ok, so that didn't come out exactly nice, either. Better then chewing his head off, though. My older brother sort of does a twirl around his mound of stuff and fiddles with his fingers.

"Is there some obscure question in the universe that you've always been wanting to ask me?" Kankuro asks me in a small voice. I stare at him. He stares back.

"…" I look up, look down, look sideways in a way that means that I was fully considering the extremities of his question, though I had already formed an answer. Sighing, I sit up so that I about as tall as he is, maybe a few centimeters shorter, hunching over and seeing that the sun has finally set. Pitch black. _Darkness_.

Damn.

I sit there, silent, for a good minute or two. Not that I had any qualms freaking out in front of my brother like I did with Neji; it was just that I was very sick and tired of randomly flying in and out of consciousness when I could be doing much more useful things with my time instead. Finally squashing the fear down into the back of my throat, I try to say something but my voice is throttled. Clogged. Stuck-in-my-throat and won't come out. Stupid fear. I can't speak.

"Gaara?"

"…"

"Gaara—" I can just _feel _his eyes drill into me. "Oh. Oops. Here, I'll—"

_Click_.

Light. Brilliant, warming light, smoothly gliding over my stand-on-end red hair, crackling with my tension, large green orbs-for-eyes, skinnier-then-normal body cloaked in a dark maroon t-shirt and some cargo pants (Kankuro and I had randomly picked up clothes some time during our prison stay… these clothes belonged to Kankuro, but as I often borrow my siblings' clothes anyways, it had a familiar sense of belonging to it) highlighting the ghost of shadows on my lips, hands, legs, flushed my mind of fear and caused me to sag with relief.

"Gaara?"

A poke. I don't mind. I'm good with poking. When the obtrusive finger comes again I spin around, catch it with an agile hand that has no trouble grabbing little pointy objects coming my way, and say, quite blatantly, "I want to talk about sex."

A pause, as Kankuro digests the information.

"Uh… ok. But let go of my finger."

I make a move as if I was about to release the little wiggling thing, but, after some consideration, decide to put it in my mouth instead. Just to see what he'd do.

"……" Kankuro just sits there and stares. I bite down. Hard.

"_AAAAAAAAAGH!_" Snapping the mortally wounded appendage out of my blood-thirsty mouth, he cradles it against his chest and stares at me. "Vampire!"

"Druggie."

"Shut up! Twig!"

"Fatty."

He gives me a look of outrage, "It's not fat, it's _muscle_."

"_Right_." I give him a look that I have yet to give a name and then sit up again. "Sex."

"Ah." He scratches his head, a little sheepish, "That." Pause.

Brotherly bonding _definitely_ came too late for us. How is this supposed to start? Breaking out and suddenly sobbing into each other's arms because of our failing love life? Kankuro twirls around a little, sit up, and flattens himself against the bed, face down, into the covers so that all that is visible is the back of his magically appearing clothes (we all had pulled on our clothes sometime during our prison stay… I'm not sure when) and his mop of brown hair.

"Gaara," he says, muffled, "remember the time I showed you that porn?"

I roll my eyes heavenwards, "Yes. How can forget?"

"You were… fourteen… I think. Haku had just lent me Zabuza's 'XXX house' video he'd gotten the other day and I dragged you into it somehow…"

I look at him over my shoulder. "You scarred me for life. I hope you're happy."

"You were already scarred for life. Watching a few orgies won't kill you."

"…mm hm."

I glare at him. "Are you avoiding the 'sex' topic?"

"Like the plague."

"Why?"

"Well," Kankuro kindly removes his head from the bed sheet and turns it around so he is now facing me, "If you _truly, truly, truly_, like someone you wouldn't care about sex, would you? The best way to learn about it is hands-on experience, you know." I quirk my brow at him and my lips twitch a little.

"Did my brother just say something meaningful? Someone call the newspaper!"

Kankuro looks vaguely annoyed, "If that's your sad attempt to make a joke, it's not working, Gaara. Sometimes I really _do_ wish you were like what you were before."

"Why?"

"'Cause back then you were too cool to make corny jokes and wrestle with me on the floor and kick me off the couch because you wanted to watch TV and get beaten about Temari and accompany me to Eegees and understand jokes and use sarcasm and try to have fun and go to amusement parks and kiss girls." He gasps for breath, "You were also too cool to go with us to the beach and to the park and to the closest city and too cool to eat sweets like any normal person and too cool to talk to anyone and even too cool to get sick."

"I haven't gotten sick once in two years," I remind him. "I've just got a killer immune system."

He pauses.

"Yes… but _still_…"

"How were those bad things?" He looks at me (or the back of my head, at least) as I tug a piece of string from one of Kankuro's atrocious mounds and twirl it around my index finger, "According to Temari… she says that all those things were just steps towards us becoming a better family." I look back at him, green to… dark green, "And that's what she wants, right? For us to be a better family?"

Kankuro fearlessly holds my _interrogating_ gaze for a good moment, without being scared as I wasn't _glaring_ at him or anything— just looking at him—and then turns away. "Y'know Gaara, I just realized that you're just like a little kid sometimes." I twitch. "You're always acting kind of tough on the outside, you know, _unbeatable_ and strong, but on the inside, you're really someone who needs lots of comforting. And you're real naïve, too." I twitch again. _Say that to my face one more time, bastard,_ runs through my head, _and brother or not, you _will_ find yourself up on the roof ball-less for the whole world to see_.

Kankuro, who, along with Temari, has trained himself to read through my expressions, must have caught my murderous intent because he gulped and tried to calmly say what he wanted to say without peeing in his pants.

"A-and you're always doing that kind of stuff and it's not like Temari and I don't do that kind of stuff either it's just that we've accepted the fact that we're human and we make mistakes all the time but _you, _you just always act so aloof and _inhuman_ that whenever you _do_ make some sort of mistake or sound childish it comes out _real obvious_ you know." He starts chewing his fingernails, index, middle, ring, pinky, index middle, ring, pinky, single file, neat and organized, "Plus, we—Temari and I—know a lot of stuff too. Like the will."

I raise my brow. "You knew?"

"Yeah, we knew! Baki called us a week after they found it and told us everything… he also told us you're going to be the next CEO of Dad's company. Dude!" He stares at me, "I know you're pretty smart when it comes to music and tech, but _seriously¸_ you're only… seventeen! I think that the company's safest now, with Uncle leading and everything…"

I furrow my brow.

"…uncle?"

He stares at me in disbelief, "You don't know? We have an Uncle! His name is… Yasha-something. We… you… really don't know him very well, so whatever. He took over right after Dad got killed… kind of like a regent you know? And when you finish your therapy sessions you can go and take your rightful place as the leader of the company…" I twitch again. Kankuro, being the odd person he is, reaches a hand out and touches my cheek. I twitch, three times.

"…is there something wrong with your face? Why are you twitching so much?"

Twitch. Twitch, twitch, twitch.

"…it's cold." Before the words even leave my mouth, I find the same coverlet that had been suffocating me earlier tossed across my shoulders.

"Liar. You just suffer from don't-touch-people-or-I'll-kill-you syndrome." I pull the coverlet down so it's snug around me, looking back as Kankuro yawns a little. "Our family's all messed up."

"You seem to be the only one that doesn't want to fix it."

"Nah, that's not it. It's not that I don't want to _fix _it, but I suffer from the same problem as you do." I cock my head to left. "I hate change. Even if it's for the better, I hate it anyways." He pauses. "Actually, it seems like we all hate change. We hate it so much we try to immerse ourselves in other things to draw our attention away from it."

I am quiet. Kankuro is being serious. He is being _serious_. Someone should really go and call the newspaper _right now_. No, I am being "sarcastic". Not God, I am so bad at it.

"I know we hide ourselves… it may not be obvious to you but I can see it clear as daylight…" He sort of shifts, the bed squeaking with his weight, "For some reason we're all more attracted to artistic things. Temari's obsessed with her photography—"

"She is?"

He snorts, as if I just asked some dumb question. I twitch and he shies away. "_Yes_. If you haven't noticed, she spends lots of her free time just sitting in the 'garden' taking pictures. She's obsessed with taking picture of the guys she likes too, so her entire wall is covered with pictures of Shikamaru…" Now that he mentions it, I remember, when I was younger—fourteen or so—walking home from school and seeing my sister poised articulately over a budding dandelion in the garden. After asking what she was doing and she, chasing me out of sight, I had forgotten the event.

I hadn't noticed when she swapped her store-bought cameras for a digital one. I hadn't noticed when she swapped _that_ one for a professional. I hadn't even noticed when she turned the old broom closet into a dark room and spent the majority of her Saturdays trapped in there, refusing to come out…

Alright, so maybe I was a little on the oblivious side. But I had my own problems—love, sanity, and career-wise—so I really didn't have that much time to sit down and contemplate it all. Kankuro, on the other hand, has all the time in the world.

"Anyways, she's obsessed with her photography and you know I'm obsessed with my puppeteer-business and acting." He holds his hand in front of his face and looks at it curiously, "I know I'm _too_ obsessed with drama… I mean, it sometimes feel like my whole entire life is one huge play."

I'm silent. True, to some extent. Everyone, in the world of business, is a puppet to another—the worker the puppet of the businessmen, the businessmen the puppet of their boss, the boss who is another puppet of the manager, who is the puppet of the CEO, who, in turn, is the puppet of God. That is how it worked. That is how it will always work, whether people liked it or not. Though not many people saw it that way.

"You—Gaara, you're obsessed with your music. Ok, so not much recently because of your… love interest," Kankuro twists his face into one of bland disgust, scared to go any further less I severely punish him for it, "But you literally hide yourself in that little shell of yours with your headphones on. I know it has something to do with… therapy…" Another word of taboo in this house. My stay at the therapeutic house in Springfield is _never_ discussed at home. "So… in the end, we hide ourselves from changes because of these things…"

He is silent, brooding, and I look up at him.

"Got any more words of advice?"

"I'm being serious here, Gaara!"

"Good. I am too."

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" He looks at the ceiling as, Temari, who is without a doubt enjoying her quiet time without her screaming brothers in the other room, turns on the radio and starts playing some hip-hop, "I'm just trying to say _this_, ok. It's not that I don't _want_ to have a stable family or anything but it's just that it's real _hard_ because we're all too busy doing our own thing, avoiding the problem! So, if you really want to get this family back into shape…" Kankuro continues to look at the ceiling, biting his lip, "We have to break our habits. Break the photography, break the drama. Break the music."

He looks me square in the eye.

"We have to start breaking the music, Gaara."

I look at him, astonished.

"…Kankuro."

"…what?"

"That was really meaningful."

"…" He stares at me as if I had just grown two horns on my head and had just declared myself in incubus, mouth open, "Uh… thanks?" His eyes narrow. "Wait? What do you mean? Are you saying I don't usually say meaningful things?"

"Nope," I suddenly stand up, coverlet flinging so it (accidentally) grazes my brother's cheek. Peering at the clothes I had picked out for myself from Kankuro's closet—a dark maroon long-sleeve under a black t-shirt and navy jeans—I, fearless and completely tossing my pride and reputation away (reputation already in the garbage from our little talk, of course) stretch a bit and turn towards my brother, who is now cross-legged on the bed. "Kankuro."

"What?" is the small reply.

"Where're the Chevy keys?"

He peers at me suspiciously. "…in the kitchen. Why?"

Reaching over, I grab a very surprised black blob, drag him across the room, open the door, walk into the hallway, into the kitchen, where Temari looks at us surprised and slightly angry at me disobeying the rules, grab the keys, force shoes onto my and Kankuro's feet, put on our jackets and walk out the front door.

Just like that.

"Gaara?" Kankuro's voice is panicked and slightly squeaky as he looks back and forth, "Gaara! What are you doing? Oh, damn, Ne-chan's gonna be so pissed!"

"I don't give a damn what Temari wants," I saw calmly as we walk down the old wrought iron stairs, clanks and groans following our trail as the thing was old beyond belief, leading my brother to the Chevy.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going out."

"Out where?" Voice, high and hysterical with fear. Fear of being squashed by an evil older sister, fear of driving off with an insane little brother, fear of doing _anything_ that was remarkably new or out of character or maybe both.

"_Out_," I snap, pushing him into the driver's seat and shutting the door. Kankuro and Temari never lock the doors, because no one in their right mind would want to steal this ancient guttering heap of a car. I circle the vehicle and get in from the passenger side, sitting so that I am right next to my brother, who is gripping the front wheel so tight his fingers turned numb.

He looks at me expectantly. His voice has lost its high-pitched-ness and has now adopted a half-calm, half-hysterical edge to it. "What in the world are you doing Gaara? Defying Temari and storming out of the house? Dragging your older brother with you? Acting completely and totally out of character?"

"123 North Main Street," I say, ignoring him, "and guess what?"

"…what?"

I grin in what must be a very disturbing manner, and start the car.

"I'm breaking the music."

"Oh god," is the horrified reply.

And, with a slight screeching noise, one Chevy Silverado Hybrid zooms out into the night.

--

_Naruto is beside me—Naruto, my god, my being, my wonderful light, the thing I cling to with all my might, gentle, as he grips my hand reassuringly as we step outside for the first time in almost nine months. Beautiful leaves, naïve, pure, green with a life, brush against my feet, so cold, the ground, a bittersweet chill. "Just hold my hand," the being whispers to me, mouth ticklish against my ear, and I cling to him with all my strength and might as I stare at the blue sky, a true blue sky which has not shown myself to me for months except for behind a plastic glass. Blue, azure, cyan, cyan like my eyes, though bluer. _

_Tug, tug. Tugged onto a wooden bench, slightly damp with morning dew, the being crawled beside me, smiling, still clutching my hand, and I, with my headphones and my medication in my pocket, the twitch of a smile on my cheek, turn around and face him. My being. Blonde, bright, dazzling with true blue eyes, prettier then any sky in any world, deep, though shallow, glazed over in thought yet holding so many words. I run a hand along his cheek and he looks at me, slightly surprised, by my urge and need for human contact—I run my hand along his cheek, his temple, his neck and under his mess of blondish hair, run my hand onto his lips and a twinkle in my eye._

"_Naruto." The word is foreign, so foreign to me, unfamiliar on my tongue and heavy in my mouth and heavier as it left. He is the being, my being, my god, that god that I first met inside, where Shukaku still reigned—Shukaku is inside, not here, never here, I won't _let _him come here—this is _my _and Naruto's garden—and I lean forward and snuggle into the crook of his neck._

_He lets me, laughing lightly, ruffling my hair as I inhale his scent—the smell of the sun—heard his smile—like gentle bells—saw his kindness—deep and blue, eyes—and say, very gently, "I like you."_

_Pause._

"_I don't know what this is. I like you."_

_Pause._

"_No."_

_The birds are screaming warnings, flying past, the sky darkening. I lift myself from his shoulder, eyes dark with seriousness as I clutch his hand, harder, tighter, as he stares at me with a face of mixed watercolor emotions._

_I say them._

"_I love you."_

_Pause._

_Shatter. _

_Darkness._

_Human beings make mistakes. They make mistakes, they hurt others, they remember, they forget. And yet, through the mistakes and regrets people make, there is truth, and there is happiness. And I, in some deep subconscious of my mind, somewhere I had long sealed up and forgotten, deliberately, purposely, am pleased with myself._

_For I have loved._

_Even if I am not all too certain what love is yet, what it meant, why people needed it and how it clenched your heart—_

_I have loved._

_And I have forgotten._

--

Author's Notes: Sorry I haven't updated in so long! (Avoids rotten tomatoes) Aah! Sorry! It's short too . This chapter was pretty hard to write though :( What happened was I wrote six pages on Temari having a party with Haku and Zabuza but it really got no where and it wasn't what I wanted the brothers to talk about and I (after some tough thinking) decided to totally delete that part and right something less funny but still on topic ;-;. Sorry! Anyway, the big Kankuro and Gaara scene is over! Reverting back to short three-to-four scene chapters next chapter and hopefully the story will start to wrap itself up...

THE MEANING OF THE TITLE IS CLEAR XD. Though it's not the best title and meaning ever, there is meaning! And, as a bonus, I include Gaara's confession to Naruto XD. Can people figure out how and what and when and why he confesses? (hopefully it should be obvious). Anyways, thanks for reading! And DEFINITE thanks to my reviewers/favoriters/alerters! You (to some extent) keep this story alive! Otherwise, it's like me posting stories to myself oO. Anyways, thanks!

P.S. I am aware that Gaara is EXTREMELY OOC this chapter. This is because I am trying to have some "brotherly bonding" and I really can't think of a way other then making Gaara OOC... I'm sorry if I have offended any hardcore-Gaara-fans out there ;-;. I suck and keeping my characters in character. Just to let you know.


	18. Name: Goldfish

_It was one of the therapists—the creepy one that squatted in the dark most of the time and stared—cold—at the patients that filed by. Evil. Dead. Black wisps of hair stuck onto his forehead as he hisses at me--no, no, got to get out, how?—and closes in on me. Tightening a hold on my blood, blood hair. _

_"Gaara," he whispers, and I can feel his voice defiling my name ten times over, ten, ten, a thousand--"Gaara, you're so cute." _

_NO! Noooo! I won't let this happen—I writhe, struggle, bite, kick, shove, manage to land a blow and he slaps me across the face, drawing blood. I remember, at the last moment, feeling utterly helpless against him—lying there, limp. Defeated. _

_"Gaa--" _

_"GAARA!" A burst of sunlight. Sunrays—blonde, blue-eyed and enraged—staring at the scene before him. The handcuffs, chaffed up against my hand, drew blood that now stained the whiteness of my shirt. Standing there, alone. _

_The therapist grins, teeth fanged, evil, evil, evil—no, no, no, get away, no—as he steps closer towards the other boy. "Naruto," he purrs, sidling up to the young blonde, blonde—no, golden-haired and a god—never blonde—who was staring, fixated on the floor, "how nice of you to join us." _

_"...let him go." _

_"Excuse me?" _

_Rage. I can feel the aura, the tempting darkness, the voices murmuring comforting words as, in blazes, my Naruto looks up in a blurring rage, "_LET HIM GO!_" I remember. Even all those years, as I saw this in my mind, over and over again. _

_Naruto, about to strike, teeth bared. _

_Naruto, whose eyes were not his own--wide, crazed, like mine, pupil shrunk as he locked down his prey. _

_I remember. _

This is not my Naruto.

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill_

--

I am, I find out rather reluctantly, a natural backseat driver. Of course, as I am sitting in the passenger seat and not in the backseat, it is not _technically_ backseat driving, but I wasn't about to act smart. As the night had dyed itself a deepening purple and the multitude of blazing cars zoomed past us, I mercilessly criticized, hassled, and practically assaulted my brother on his rather horrible, shaky driving.

Another trait I share with my sister. Yay.

"Speed up, Kankuro! You're going at twenty miles per hour!"

"Twenty is good!" he wails back at me, hands clammy and clenching the wheel as if it was his last lifeline, "Twenty is a decent speed!"

"The speed limit is _fifty_, Kankuro!"

"Shut up! As long as I'm not going over, I'm doing fine!"

A car behind us honks at us with good measure. Pissed and feeling oddly exhilarated at my new discovery that I can act completely out-of-character, ruin my reputation and throw my pride out the door without anyone being too perturbed, I grab the wheel and force myself onto the driver's seat.

Kankuro, who had hunched up even more so after feeling my weight on him, whines, "Get off of me! I can't see! I'll crash and we'll die and it'll be all your fault!" To prove his point, the car starts to dangerously swerve from side to side, grazing the edge of a lamppost and almost zooming straight into a cyclist, who dove out of the way and screamed—Freaks!—at our backs as we flew off.

Finally crushing his foot with my own and thus gaining control of the vehicle, I wedge myself into a more comfortable position, somehow ending up between Kankuro's legs.

Ok.

So maybe this position wasn't the best thing ever.

"Gaara!" More wailing. "You're getting too big for this! Get off! _You're crushing my man-parts!_" I don't look back, just clamp white hands over my brother's and calmly guide the car, at a reckless speed, down familiar streets and allies.

"As long as certain man-parts aren't rubbing up against me, I'm fine."

"Gaara!" Kankuro's voice is a little more muffled, as the close extremity and small compartment of the car becomes evident when my forehead gets smashed against the windshield due to his wriggling, "You're sick!"

"Thank you."

"That's not a compliment!"

Swerve. Drive. Swerve.

Graze a cat who attempts to deflate the tires. Loses some claws, instead.

Swerve. Drive. Bam! Crash into a fire hydrant, though quickly drive away before anyone notices.

Kankuro moans.

Finally come to the destination. Come to a screeching halt.

"Kankuro," I demand, turning back so I can clearly see him, "get out of the car." His reply is incoherent

"What?"

"I _said,_ I _can't_ 'cause you're frickin' blocking my way!"

I brood.

"…you're right."

Pause.

"…then get out of the way!"

I resist the childish urge to reply "No" and stay there. However, if I did, I'd never get to where I wanted to get to. Evaluating the entire situation, I sulkily slide off of my brother and back onto the passenger seat, allowing him to finally prop open the car door and worm his way out. Letting myself out into the crisp, evening air, I quickly find my objective with my eyes, take a good hold of Kankuro's sleeve, and drag him up the sidewalk.

Slow steps—click, click, paddle, click—_creak_. The door opens quietly, unlocked, and the familiar floral smell wafts into our noses, into our mouths, into our _brains_, as we step inside. The light is dim—the scenery, unfamiliar. I have never been here after dark.

Kankuro stumbles behind me, flailing and crashing, rather unceremoniously into walls, before I reach over and flick on the light-switch. I hear voices, coming from the room, and see two figures slouching down in the chairs, one familiar, the other… a little. We've met.

Kankuro looks around nervously.

"Gaara…"

"Hn?"

"This is your shrink's place, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Gaa-gaa! Kanky! Look, Kisame, it's my friends!"

The familiar figure has come out of the dark and revealed himself to be… Uchiha Itachi. Why was he always showing up everywhere we went? Dressed formally in a dark black suit with a matching tie, his hair is pulled tightly against his head and he has a clipped look about his face, though grinning. The other man, Kisame, is hidden deeply in the shadows still, though it was light enough for me to see a… blue hand?

I takes me a while, but I finally put two and two together and realize the blue hand belonged to the blue rock-of-a-man I'd seen at the Uchiha's house not too long ago. I just never got to properly talk to him yet.

"Gaara!" Itachi is saying to me, face happy and in "insane" mode, though the suit didn't fit the rest of the act, "Gaara and Kan—Kan—Kan—Kan-something, meet my goldfish! He is _my_ goldfish! _MINE!_"

I just twitch and stare at the blue-rock-thing. "We've met."

Said goldfish just looks very annoyed at being called a goldfish.

"Itachi…"

"No, no, no, no—!" The elder Uchiha scolds the blue-tinted man, who just rolls his eyes and sighs tiredly, "Not 'Itachi'! I told you to call me 'Master'! Master!"

"…yes, Master."

"Good!"

"'Master'?" I say, dubiously. Kankuro just looks blank, right hand tightly grasping my left as he hid behind me, attempting to still look brave while using his little brother as a human shield. The memory of dancing with Itachi on our DDR is still fresh on his mind.

"Yes, _Master_!" Itachi snaps, totally serious, "He is my goldfish and, thus, he is my possession—which then means, _I am his master!_"

"Oh god," mutters Kisame-goldfish, "not _this_ again…"

Thankfully, Kami decided to be nice to us (Kankuro and I) by creating an interruption. Namely, a bushy-haired silver blurred interruption.

"KAKASHI!"

_Zoom_.

One silver-haired bullet darting about the room, cackling madly. One embarrassed psychiatrist without a hair tie and missing his… pants. Four innocent bystanders, three horrified and one amused.

Itachi makes a sort of noble chortle. "Pft… I always marked Umino-san as a briefs kind of guy… glad to see he proved me wrong."

"Kakashi!" Face crimson and utterly embarrassed, Kankuro and I stare as he flounders in his Mickey-Mouse boxers, stops running, and gives up. Looking at us—his patients—his face, by contrast, floods itself of all colors and turn into an unsettling shade of white.

Kakashi, who is, to say the least, a rather clever man, had hid himself in some obscure place where the only indication of his whereabouts was his little mutterings of—"Ooh, this is nice, haha…" and "These smell like Iruka…"

The mentioned psychiatrist immediately ducks into his room and joins us soon afterwards, fully clothed. He has on a rather annoyed yet embarrassed look as he greets us: "Itachi! Sorry for starting your session late; I had a bit of a run-in with Kakashi over there, he… and Gaara? What are you doing here?"

The jolt of confidence that had driven me here against the better wishes of my siblings slightly deflated.

"Wanted to visit you…" I manage to mumble, and Kankuro looks at me oddly. Ok, so maybe mumbling really wasn't something on "Gaara's List to Do". Iruka cocks his head to the side, looks as if he is considering, and then smiles reassuringly.

"Of course! Itachi!" He turns back and calls the other man, "Is it ok if we have a group therapy session today?"

The CEO just shrugs, "Sure. If it means Kisame can come in with me, I'm happy with anything." Nonchalant again, he loses the act and straightens his back, completely cool and composed. Smirking, he gestures towards his companion and together they walk into the therapy room.

I give Umino-san a look. "Is his insane-cool demeanor partially why he comes here for therapy?"

"Sort of," he admits before following Itachi's footsteps and disappears into his room. Kankuro is still staring at the doorway in which Hatake-san had disappeared into.

"Gaara…"

I give him a look.

"Was that your boss?"

"No," I answer him curtly, heading into the therapy room, "it's the Easter Bunny. _Of course_ that was my boss. Now come on in before Umino-san decides to shut the door on us."

Being that he is my older brother and that he was totally and completely unfamiliar with the environment around him, heading with me was definitely his best choice.

He complies.

--

"—the itsy bitsy goldfish went up the water spout…"

"…Itachi…"

"—down came the rain and washed the fishy out…"

"…Itachi…"

"—up came the sun and dried up all the fish…"

"_Itachi…_"

"—and the itsy bitsy goldfish never-went-up-the-spout-again-'cause-he-was-_dead_! The end!" Itachi beams, obviously pleased with himself.

Kisame twitches. "Itachi."

"What?"

"Please do not make fun of me in front of your… friends."

I ignore the fact that Kisame had just implied that Sasuke's brother and I were, per se, "friends". Like hell we were. At least Kankuro knew the bloody truth, even if he was unwilling to spill.

"But I wasn't!" Itachi pouts, "I said it was _a_ goldfish! Not _my_ goldfish!"

"With you, there isn't much of a difference."

Inside the Umino-san's room, we are all wedged into a tiny space created for two, now filled with five. Being that Kisame was easily the biggest man in the room at the moment, he finally resorted to squatting down in the small space between the dark maroon coffee table and the wheezing sofas, just at the right level for Itachi to lean over and pat. Kankuro was next to me on the other sofa and Umino-san had drawn a small yellow folding chair for himself and was in-between the two groups of us.

"Alright," Umino-san calls loudly, attracting everyone's attention at once. "This is our group therapy session for today. It will last sixty minutes. The first thing that we are going to do is introduce ourselves. Include full name, age, occupation, which includes student, interests, things you want to talk about during the session and other random stuff you think is important. But those first… one, two, three… five things need to be mentioned. Got it?"

Everyone nods.

Umino-san clears his throat. "I'll go first. Hello, my name is Umino Iruka, as most of you know. I am… um… in my late twenties-early thirties. I work as a psychiatrist/psychologist and used to work as a science teacher. I'm interested in board games and Nike shoes. I want to talk about people's pasts and why they avoid them during this session."

Itachi's hand shoots up. Umino-san sighs.

"Yes, Itachi…?"

"Why do you like Nike shoes?"

"Because they're comfortable," Umino-san answers automatically, and then looks at the other man, curious. "Now, since you _did_ raise your hand, will you give us the pleasure of introducing yourself?"

"Alright," Itachi responds coolly, suddenly business-like again, "My name is Uchiha Itachi and I am the CEO of Uchiha Corp. which sells computers and is highly competitive with our competitor, Suna Tech." He glances at me and I'm all innocent. Really. I had absolutely no idea that my father's company (or mine, for that matter, as I _was_ supposed to inherit it anyway) had anything to do with the Uchihas. "I am in my mid-twenties and like to google random subjects to increase my already high IQ score. I also like to pretend I am insane and act like a drama king. I want to talk about my goldfish." He turns to said goldfish. "Goldfish, it is your turn."

"Yes. Alright."

"Yes, alright, _master_. Don't forget the master."

"Yes, _master_."

"Ahem." Umino-san coughs. "Go on."

Kisame looks at Itachi out of the corner of his eye and gruffly says his introduction. "Hoshigaki Kisame. Around the same age as Itachi here. Pick up some odd jobs here and there every so often. I like fish. And seafood. And big shiny swords. Yeah. Gotta love those swords. I'm just here 'cause Itachi's here."

"My goldfish loves me," Itachi chirps happily and Kisame rolls his eyes.

It was inevitable. But very stall-able. I look back at Kankuro and nudge him. He looks at me as if I am mad and nudges me back.

"You go first: no one knows you here," I whisper at him.

"You go first: you're the one that comes here three times a week!" he whispers back.

I finally throw him one of my patented "Do-what-I-say-or-you-will-have-your-testes-cut-off" glares and he breaks down.

"Ahaha…" Kankuro scratches behind his head, sheepish, "Um… hi. I'm here… 'cause my li'l brother's here. Name's Kankuro… Sabaku no Kankuro… or Sabaku Kankuro if you're a picky American professor who doesn't except random Japanese bits between one's name… like mine. I'm nineteen… go the University of California. The one really close to here. I'm a Drama Art major and work part-time at Applebee's down the street. I'm into puppets and acting… and I don't want to talk. I was dragged here. By force." He glares at me. "By him."

"Dragged here by your little brother, eh?" Itachi snickers coolly behind a gloved hand, "My, what a _man_ you are."

"Cool it." Kankuro practically snarls, making a move as if he was seriously considering beating up the Uchiha. I make a sharp move to block him and send him a warning glare. Kankuro roughly pushes me back and turns away from me, gluing his back to the cushions on the sofa and refusing to move. Whatever. Idiotic older brothers.

Umino-san is peering at me. Is it my turn already? I hate speaking in front of large groups of people I do not know… even if the "large group of people" I am referring to right now consists of my brother, my friend's brother and his brother's boyfriend, and my psychiatrist/psychologist/therapist. It's gotten easier and more relaxed, of course, but still… it doesn't make me feel comfortable, to say the least.

"My name is Sabaku no Gaara. I'm seventeen and attend Konoha High as a junior and work part time at the music town in No Man's Market down the lane. I like music, guitars, and blondes. I'm also gay. I want to talk about family issues and its relationship to unstable emotional well-beings."

"'Unstable emotional well-beings'?" quips Kankuro, eyebrows furrowed, "What's that?"

"Your face." I say flatly and he hits me—lightly—on the shoulder. Itachi's hand shoots up again.

Umino-san rubs his temples. "Yes, Itachi?"

"Why doesn't Gaara have eyebrows?"

"I was born this way." I reply, though both Kankuro and I knew that that was a blatant lie. After Temari shaved it off after me stealing her tampons, she'd taken on a habit of shaving them off every week until I copied her and started to do it on my own. It's just something I do. Like a woman shaving her legs—I shave my eyebrows.

Kankuro just thinks I'm weird.

Umino-san clears his throat.

"Ahem. So now we've all introduced each other. I would now like to start this therapy session with a simple game of going around in a circle and sharing who is important to us and why. And don't even dare lie. This is a _therapy_ session which is supposed to _help_ you. Lying won't help you, so don't do it." He clears his throat again, and I start to wonder if he has a cold, like that sick-Hayate dude that was there when I got drunk. Maybe it was contagious?

"People important to me are… Kakashi, who is my boyfriend. He's protected me and I've protected him for a long time." He has a soft look in his eye—soft like butter and sweet like syrup. It makes me hungry. Hungry for _love_. I think Kankuro's right and I really have gone off the edge. "I also care about my clients… and I care about Naruto, who is almost like a little brother to me."

I don't look surprised, but I am. I distantly remember something about Umino-san and Naruto being close at the treatment center, but I'd never analyzed the relationship thoroughly. I cock my head left, looking at Itachi, who was next in the circle.

Itachi is all professional and expressionless, nonchalant as he faces us. Seeing his cool demeanor, I conclude that he really doesn't have the mind to lie to us. Why would he? "People I care about… are Kisame and, admittedly, Sasuke, my little bro. Kisame's been there for me when I needed him and Sasuke's just Sasuke, even if he's a little brat sometimes." He sits back, pleased at the fact that he almost revealed nothing about what he really thought about them. Umino-san looks as if he was about to force Itachi to elaborate and decides against it.

One little run-down psychiatrist against a big-name CEO of one of the finest companies of all of Konoha. Would've been interesting to see how _that_ turned out.

Umino-san turns towards Kisame.

"And you?"

"Me? Eh… Itachi… 'cause he's my buddy." He shuts his mouth and looks as if he's finished until Itachi very roughly jabs him in the ribs. Kisame hastily reawakens and continues to speak. "He's also smart and alluring… and makes good jokes. Uh… he's also my…" He looks pained.

"Master." Itachi hisses.

"…master." Kisame sighs. "Other people I care about… I guess the whole gang, even if that bogus guy creeps me out. Dei and Sasori aren't bad people… yeah. They're my _buddies_." He turns toward Itachi. "Can I shut up now?"

"Yes, Kisame." The Uchiha's lips twitch in a sort of quirky smile as he reaches over and pats the rather intimidating man, "Kisame is a _good_ goldfish!"

Umino-san signs again. I glance at Kankuro and glances at me, as if to ask me—_why the hell do those two try to make this even more difficult then it already was_?

My wonderful answer?

_Itachi's just self-absorbed like that, alright_?

Yeah, Kankuro and I share many brotherly conversations through our eyes and glances all the time. It developed rapidly during childhood because Mom and Temari would regularly gang up on us and the only way to create a plan without being seen was to create some way to plan without speaking. Thus, the looks.

By the way, Mom never did catch on to how every time he _just got _me, I'd suddenly disappear like that.

I mean "she". No wait… I mean "he". You know what? I should just shut up. I know I'm messed up, so let's drop the subject.

"Kankuro?"

I "totally and utterly swear" (as Neji likes to say whenever I give him my "Oh, really?" look) he practically jumped into my lap in surprise, what with Umino-san so close to his face like that with a look that said: _anything to bring the session back together, so you better say something worthwhile!_

He scratches the back of his head, eyes darting in the standard _gotta-find-a-way-out-of-this_ form before finally giving up and succumbing to the inevitable. He takes one final look at me and I suddenly have the gut feeling to plug my ears and try not to hear what he has to say.

"People I care about… my family, duh. Temari's kind of bitchy sometimes, but she's my big sis, you know? Keeps me in line and makes sure I don't die of lead poisoning from eating too much paint or something. Gaara too…" He avoids my eyes. "He's kind of frightening and he's always threatening to hurt me in some way but I know he won't do that kind of stuff anymore. So I guess to care for him a lot too. Baki, also. He's like our adoptive father, but not _really_. He's always separated himself from us 'cause he knew he'd have to leave us after a while, but he still calls me every so often and stuff. And though I haven't seen him for years, Yashamaru's pretty important to me as well."

Yashamaru.

_Yashamaru_.

_--you don't know? We have an Uncle! His name is… Yasha-something… you probably don't remember him…_

Kankuro's avoiding my gaze like the plague. He speaks as if I should know this… Yashamaru man, but in reality I can't remember him at all. He also speaks as if it is a touchy subject… and knowing my memory, it probably is.

I'm really not that big of a fool… I think. After remembering the incidents taking place at the institute, I stopped trusting my memories. I mean, who would? If you remember something completely different but the truth is right there in your eyes—who wouldn't feel a little insecure about their thoughts?

So the whole Yashamaru remembering thing wasn't all that out of the blue. However, I plan to ignore the subject as long as possible. I don't want to go into another… shock… like last time.

Blegh. I feel like I'm thinking like a thirty-year old man. I need to loosen up and try not to over think. It feels like in the presence of Itachi, I naturally want to act more mature and adultish, to compensate for his childish masquerades. It's odd... and I know I should stop trying to size myself up against him. It's stupid and tiring and I feel like I'm gonna die of hernia right here and now.

Kankuro's looking at me funny again and I give him a cross-eyed glare. I'm particularly good at being cross-eyed. Temari says it cracks her up every time I try to give a speech being cross-eyed. Hey, it's not like I do it on purpose… most of the time.

Damn.

Okay, okay, I admit I inherited my family's cross-eyed gene. It's in my blood.

Anyways…

"…and I also care about my buddies from the University too… because they're my pals and they've been with me for like, forever. They're twins too, so it's cool." He nudges men, hissing, "_Gaara_."

Okay. Time for me to take the lead.

If only I wasn't so mentally exhausted, I could do this properly…

"I care about my family, like Kankuro said. Temari, who's my older sister, is someone that's just like the _foundation_ of our life. Kankuro's… the comic relief."

"Hey!" he shouts indignantly and I ignore him.

"Baki's sort of like the authority in our household who I always challenged… he's gone now, but he was pretty important… I've got some friends at school too…" I lean forward and cup my face in my hands, staring out in the distance—beyond Itachi, who was staring at me creepily without blinking, beyond Kisame, who looked bored, behind the shades, behind the _windows_—trying to think up the words to fit my mouth, "Neji's, who's my best friend, is really smart and kind of cold sometimes, but if you look at him the way I do, you can he see how really girly he is. It's kind of funny… especially when he starts twitching when his boyfriend does something really stupid. Sasuke—Itachi's brother—is kind of moody and we haven't been getting along much lately, but we're friends otherwise. He and I are kind of alike, but not really… Naruto…" I look up, mouth sort of twitching, "Naruto's… kind of bratty… but otherwise, he's a good kid. He's nice… and… funny…"

"Stop, Gaara. Stop." Kankuro shakes me a little, "You've got the 'I'm-in-lurve' look on."

I give him my Glare-of-Extreme-Doom.

"…quiet."

"Eh? I was right?" Kankuro looks genuinely surprised and I glared at him harder.. Itachi flicks a piece of dust off his suit, looking amused while Umino-san just sighs, nonchalant. Did everyone in this room already know of my crush? Hell, did everyone in the _entire village_ know of my crush?

Damn, I must be a _really_ bad liar…

"…shut up. Just shut up or I'll screw you over."

He wrinkles his nose. "That's just _sick_, Gaara. Didn't think I was your type."

A murderous gleam emerges in my eye and my entire expression darkens to one of moral distaste and… scariness.

"_What_?"

Kankuro squeaks. "N-nothing. Nothing at all!"

"Boys, boys, calm down." Umino-san finally steps in between us, "Now, let's get on with the therapy session, alright? I understand you two are brothers, but try and keep your brotherly discussions at home."

"If we keep our 'brotherly discussions' at home," Kankuro muses dryly out loud, "Temari'd castrate us." We exchange more secretive glances. Yes, Temari resembled a raging tractor sometimes, especially if one of us (mostly Kankuro) has stolen her things. She's very self-conscious about her things.

Umino-san sighs, rubbing his temples. "Yes, that may be true, but I would like to finish this discussion, please. Now I'll let you boys—er, men," he corrected himself when he realized that three fourths of the clients in this room were over the age of eighteen, "talk amongst yourselves about the topic I present you. I'll present a new topic every time the discussion seems to die off, alright?" He gets up and rifts through some of his folders stacked about the room, finally pulling out a large sign, "I'll stick it here for now while I go hunt down Kakashi, okay? Alright. Be back in a second."

With that, he was gone.

We stare after him, and then slowly turn our gazes to the sign. Itachi chortles.

"'Pedophiles'?"

"Interesting." Kisame drawls before giving his companion a steady look, "Say, Itachi, ever thought of ever being a pedophile before?"

"A ped? Dunno…" The Uchiha scratches his chin thoughtfully, "What's the definition of a ped?" Turning around, composed, he lightly takes up the small dictionary that just so happened to be on the windowsill behind me. It just so happens that Umino-san likes to leave these things around, I guess.

Kisame looks over his shoulder, though the way his shoulders were relaxed and his nonchalant expression obviously showed that he was bored. "Pedophile," he reads aloud, "Noun. An adult sexually attracted to young children." A pause.

Finally, an answer: "No, no, Kisame, I don't think I've ever wanted to be a ped before. I mean… that's like me saying I want to be an Orochimaru."

Kisame snorts, and Kankuro and I exchange glances. The two of them knew Orochimaru? "Isn't being an Orochimaru the same as being a ped? I mean, he's seducing young fifteen year old boys at his school and he's almost _sixty_ for god's sake. That's just…"

"...wrong." Itachi finishes, frowning. "He tried to seduce me… and my brother… and my cousin, before he died… and other people."

"He's a gay pedophile." Kankuro says flatly, playing with a piece of string slightly removed from my shirt, "He's such an old fart, it's not funny." Itachi makes a curt agreeing nod while Kisame just hides his face in his turtleneck. .

"I wonder how he gets boys to agree to have sex with him. I mean, when you get older, don't you start _sagging_? You know—folds of skin everywhere?"

Alright, that was unnerving. I make a slightly disgusted face and glare laser beams through Kankuro's head. He stops playing with my sleeve.

In the next twenty minutes, what first started as uncomfortable silence ended up to become—though not a lively interaction—a bustling chitchat, as it seems that every one of us had a story about pedophiles (also known as an Orochimaru, which we all agreed can be used as a synonym for the word "pedophile") to share. Itachi and Kankuro spoke the most by far, while I just vaguely commented on several topics and Kisame hardly spoke a word. All sitting comfortably in our seats on the sofas, Kankuro has (thankfully) stopped using me as a human shield and I felt good about the fact that my not-speaking-as-much is rebuilding my dying reputation. I _do_ have a reputation… or, at least, I _did_. Dammit. Keeping them is so hard, sometimes.

"…there was a kid I knew once in my class… I forgot his name. Anyway, he was always kind of insecure and all his friends tried to boost his self-esteem. Now, when he met Orochimaru, the guy thought it'd be fun to try and seduce him… you know? So yeah… I caught them at it in the boy's bathroom during lunch…"

"You screamed bloody murder," Kisame murmurs and Itachi, somehow, has suddenly gotten a stranglehold around the "goldfish"s neck.

"Excuse me?"

"Grgg."

"You did not say anything, Kisame."

"Grggg—I d-did not say anything."

"Master."

"I did not say anything, _master_."

He gives each of us a sly, menacing look and immediately we find our mouths saying: "We did not hear anything." Damn. We exchange "_I can't believe I just did that"_ glances at one another.

He nods.

"Good."

A pause. Itachi is often spontaneous and his… spontaneousity often caused the five of us to lapse into silence. Fortunately, Kami has blessed us with another miracle as Umino-san comes back and interrupts the stiffening silence. Well, it's more accurate to say that _Hatake-san_ interrupts the silence.

"But Iruka—!"

"Hn!"

"Iruka—!"

"Shush!"

"But—!"

"Snap that mouth of yours tight you perverted freak and _sit over there until I tell you can go_!"

Hatake-san very dramatically drags his body across the carpeted floor, slithering to the same armchair Umino-san had been sitting in when he'd goosed in last time. "Iruka…" he moans, covering his face with the back of his hand, "I _hate_ time-out! What if I need to go _potty_?"

"Then hold it!" the irritated psychiatrist snarls back.

Kankuro, Itachi, Kisame and I are watching the little show with much interest. Hatake-san stops bemoaning and slyly looks at our beloved Umino-san with a… certain type of look. "I can hold it for some time, but I can't hold _that_ as long as you're in this room… sensei."

Umino-san twitches. "I thought a pervert like you'd be able to come up with a better pick-up line." Itachi and Kisame exchange looks, Kisame rolling his eyes and Itachi with a spark in his eye, before the Uchiha Corp CEO reaches over and picks up the "pedophile" sign.

"Hey, Kakashi," Itachi addresses the other man loosely, "are you an Orochimaru?"

Umino-san looks enraged that someone (even if was his own client) had interrupted his and his boyfriend's little spat, but Hatake-san actually seems to ponder this for a moment. "_Weeeeell_…" he taps his chin dramatically, purposeful as he turns his back to his seething lover, "You don't want them _too _big, you know? Otherwise they'd try and dominate… little ones are easier too, because they're all innocent and they stare at you with those _wonderful_ eyes as you straddle them." Umino-san's face turns red with anger as Hatake-san keeps blathering, "Also, they're so _soft,_ like a woman, unlike adults who are _hard_ and _muscular_ and altogether _unappealing_. Plus, they come with _great_ sound effects!"

He turns around and faces the now twitching, red-faced psychiatrist, who has suddenly gotten a certain gleam in his eye. He acts innocent. "…what?"

Umino-san loses it. "_HATAKE KAKASHI!_" he shrieks shrilly, grabbing the nearest object (a beige pillow) and colliding it hard with Hatake-san's face, "_YOU SICK PERVERT!_ Augh! _How _dare_ you say such _things_ in front of my _clients_?! GO AWAY! LEAVE! That's right! AND DON'T TOUCH MY PANTS!"_

The silver-haired man flees. Umino-san very shakily flops into his armchair, where he buries his head into the armrest and moans.

Itachi looks amused, putting down the "pedophile" sign. "We feel your pain, Iruka." he says sympathetically, and we all nod. I don't know what Kankuro's nodding for because he's never had a serious relationship in his life (at least, not that I know of), but he was nodding anyway… probably because we were all nodding too. Yes. It was the "majority rules" feeling that we all know and despise.

"Umino-san," I say, quietly, "do you want to continue speaking about topics?"

"No." Itachi and Kankuro say at the same time, and Umino-san looks up.

"Yes, that didn't work very well, did it? Damn, we've only got twenty minutes left, right? Well… I guess if you really want to cut to the chase, we'll have each of us talk about a traumatic event happened in your life. I mean, your _most_ traumatic event. I won't speak about mine because we have to cut to the chase. And no, Itachi, I will not allow you enough stalling time to slither out of this. You go first."

Itachi's face suddenly hardens into one of cold disliking, before morphing back into one of stoic cool. He crosses his legs in a masculine manner (as in not a full cross, unlike Umino-san or even Sasuke) and held his chin up high. He takes one look at Umino-san.

"You know I don't often talk about traumatic events because it's very, very long, correct? Also, I'm not very personal about these things. I don't mind speaking them aloud." Umino-san just waves a hand.

"No, no, it's quite alright. Come on, Itachi, speak."

Itachi twitches, before opening his mouth.

"The most traumatic event even that happened in my life happened when I was around eighteen years old… it was then I had a dispute with my father over the inheritance of Uchiha Corps. I'd never approved of my father's way of handling things—he thought that talent and skill were best honed under severe pressure and mental abuse, where he would continuously compare us—the Uchiha brothers—against other people's children. He had claimed that I was strong, but not 'strong enough' to succeed the Uchihas. To him, "strong enough" meant being just like him: abusive and comparative and all that crap. That morning, he'd decided that he'd let my little brother inherit the company instead." He took a relaxing breath, and Kisame looks up at his companion worriedly. Kankuro and I listen in—more on the Uchihas' past! Yay! If I was some sort of gossiping nutcase like a certain Haruno girl, I'd be ecstatic to tell the first person I could find.

I wasn't like that, though. What I hear is what I hear, and I won't talk about it unless the person I am talking to already knows about it… like this. I wonder if Sasuke knew about this. If he didn't, I'll tell him—it was something he probably deserved to know anyways.

Yeah, I'm a hypocrite. I think I had _that_ rubbed in my face more often then I would have liked.

"So I got kind of pissed off, you know? I mean, I didn't want Sasuke to be raised in such a suffocating atmosphere, even _more_ suffocating I didn't want to stay there either—Sasuke was about eight at the time—and I knew I had to leave. So I packed up my stuff and went, with much disapproval from the Uchiha Corps." His lips twitched. "They were so mad, they disowned me and me, them. They stopped supporting my college funds but, thankfully, both my grandparents from both sides had given me a rather large sum of money for my birthday before my disowning, which I used to pay my tuition. I still remember where I first started working. Do you remember where I first started working, Kisame?"

The blue-skinned man grunts a little, the touch of a smiling pulling at his thin lips. "…McDonalds."

I raise an eyebrow. Even I hadn't worked at McDonalds… of course, Naruto, who _has_ worked there, insists that working there is actually pretty hard and that we should appreciate the fact that McDonald's is practically open twenty-four seven. He also says that McDonalds is a teenage slave camp.

Umino-san is quiet, staring at the Uchiha with large chocolate-colored eyes. At first, when I commented on his lack of a notebook, I'd really thought he just didn't care. As I look at him harder, though, I realize it must be because Umino-san just might have a really good memory. Unlike me, whose memory is so selective even I couldn't trust myself anymore.

Hmph.

"Yes, I worked at McDonalds… damn deep fry. I think I still have blotches where the oil splashed me…"

"When you hung out with the guys, you'd always smell like oil," Kisame murmurs, "I remember Dei asking if he could eat you once."

"You know what, goldfish? Shut up." A menacing glare and Kisame is back to hiding behind his turtleneck, "Anyway… I eventually quit and started working at a small computer company due to my experience and blah. I went back and had some huge legal battles for my little brother. I didn't want him growing up in the same environment as me, you know? I needed to get him out of there as soon as possible, so Father couldn't brainwash him or abuse him either. Long story short, I got him in the end and we lived in that an apartment-condo for five years. Then…" he looks up, "my family died in a fire. We moved into the main house after that and I became the CEO of Uchiha Corps. There. End of story."

Kankuro and I mock clap. Itachi makes a small bowing motion before moving back to lean against his seat.

Umino-san sighs. "Itachi… I wanted you tell me _one_ traumatic incident, not your whole life story."

"That _was_ a traumatic incident. It was the traumatic incident of how I, Uchiha Itachi, got to be what I am now." Even Kisame looks at the younger man worriedly and Itachi replies with a steely glare.

Umino-san sighs. "Now we only have ten minutes. Great. Only one more person can go… and who will it be?"

A pregnant pause. I carefully observe the other three while they observe each other. Umino-san then points at Kankuro.

"You! Go! Now!"

"Eh?" Kankuro jumps back, looking terrified. "Uh…"

"You're wasting precious time, Kankuro." I say softly, "You better talk fast."

"Uh—!"

"Go!"

"Um…"

We all wait as my brother attempts to collect scattered words. I jab him in the ribs and he immediately begins speaking: "Uh… most traumatic thing… eh-heh, um… well… probably, when I w-was… uh, how old was I? Oh, eight. Well, this wouldn't make much sense without some background… uh, I hope my little brother won't kill me for this… 'cause it's his past too… um. Let's see… what happens is, my father is—_was _the owner of Suna Tech… but he wasn't exactly a good father either. When Mother was still pregnant with Gaara, he beat her endlessly. Mother was very weak after she gave birth to Gaara… with the hospital's help, she was still alive after the birth, however. Father couldn't stand the sight of us, though, and sent us—Temari, Kankuro, Gaara, Mother, Uncle Yashamaru and Baki—to the slums to live…"

Wait, was this about the Yashamaru guy too? I remain silent. Why couldn't I seem to remember him?

"Sending us to the slums cut off Mother's medical health. She was always in bed and always at home while Uncle Yashamaru and Baki took care of us. She was deteriorating rapidly and one day, when I was four and Gaara was two, she died. But—" he holds up a finger, "that's not the traumatizing part."

"You better hurry," I murmur. "Six minutes left."

He shoots me a half-hearted glare (I can so totally glare better then he can) before continuing, "So Mother was dead and Uncle Yashamaru had a hard time comforting Temari, who was in hysterics. Baki was also in hysterics but he locked himself in his room so Uncle Yashamaru couldn't comfort him too. After that, you can see how much Uncle Yashamaru was trying to keep us all together…" he pauses for effect, but keeps going when we all give him the _we-do-not-have-time-for-this-now-talk_ look.

"I don't know… Gaara was always very attached to him. You see, Uncle Yashamaru was Mother's fraternal twin brother… but even so, they looked almost exactly alike. When Gaara was little, he couldn't distinguish them very well… in the end, they were both 'Mother' and 'Mom' until Mother died and all that was left was Uncle Yashamaru…"

I stare at him harder, brain reworking.

"…sometimes, I don't even know if Gaara knew that Mother had died. It was like—there were two mothers, at first, but Gaara might have thought them one, and when one died, it didn't look as if anything was wrong…" he stops and took a breath, "Father had taught Gaara from when he was young how to kill… it was something abusive and wrong. He'd beat if he didn't do anything right. Father also attempted to manipulate Uncle Yashamaru because he had the most influence out of all of is… he abused both of them—I remember, sitting in my room as Uncle Yashamaru would sob as he listened to my father over the phone… he'd sit in the kitchen crying and even Gaara didn't want to go near him…"

He pauses again, "In the end… he snapped. They both snapped. Oh, god. I still remember. Coming back from school with Temari, talking about our homework, and then opening the front door—"

_Stop._

I know this. I know what happens… again, the memory flashes. The same memory that had repeated itself over and over again in my mind… the same memory that lead me to be strapped down onto a bed in a treatment center refusing to talk or eat or do _anything_. And yet… it's different. More accurate. Everything is accurate. I even remember what I had done—every move I had made, the horrified looks on my siblings faces—

_Again, I am standing. The room is dark—the lights turned off. No, wait—the light bulb was smashed against the blood-ridden walls. Oh goody._

_The stench is rancid; my siblings are standing at the doorway, eyes wide, Temari screaming so loud my ears ring. They ring and ring and ring, and I remember staring at her—empty and cold—and pointing my butcher knife in her direction. She snaps her mouth shut as she sees the blood. The sickening blood, everywhere. I don't know in my memory but I know now._

_I killed him._

_I killed him, I killed him, I killed him—I killed _both_ of them, oh lord. I killed my mother. Both mothers. _

_I stare at him in horror, chest aching as the blood on my forehead drips down into my mouth. I sputter, look around—the walls were crimson as was the ceiling. I am in no pain, and yet I am—the dizzying feeling is nauseating, his words ringing in my ear._

_I look at Mother's outstretched hand, still clenching what he was holding right before his death. Right before he had whispered those horrendous words to me, before losing that gleam in his eye. _

_His hands were clenching shards of broken glass._

_Oh lord. Kankuro was shouting now, too, as was Temari—"Gaara! Gaara! Gaara, what'd you do?"_

_I am dazed. Hurt. Trying to find ground when there was none—none in this darkness which swirled in my mind, the wonderful dark. Dark and blood. Yes…_

_I remember how this all started. Me, making a peanut-butter jelly sandwich at the kitchen counter, standing on my tiptoes because I wasn't tall enough to comfortably reach. Taking the knife and carefully dabbing it into the jelly, swish-swash, swish-swash. Proud that I could make something like this—Mother had just taught me Yesterday._

_The footsteps are so silent, I almost didn't hear them until too late. There was a slight shadow and…_

_A loud crash. Splintering glass, everywhere. I had fallen onto the tile just in time and was now looking at Uncle Yashamaru, who had just slammed the wine bottle he had been holding onto the countertop._

_Right where my head had been._

"—we screamed for several minutes before Gaara looked at us. It was real scary, you know… it was like, it was him but not him at the same time. It wasn't the same little brother I had played with in the backyard or tricked into stealing from Temari's room or anything like that… the way he looked at you… it was like he was _soulless_ or something, it was that scary. We were too scared to move, and Gaara just squatted there, rocking on the balls of his feet mumbling to himself over Uncle Yashamaru's body. Baki came soon after, saw what happened, and quickly called my father, who came and 'cleaned' the whole mess up… so yeah. That is my traumatizing event…"

Everyone stares at him, not acknowledging the fact that I was now clenching the sofa cover in a way that might have broken an arm or two. Staring out the window, I calm myself down. Calm. Relax. I was _over_ this—that's why, after all these years, I was actually sort of leading a normal life. C'mon. _Calm_. I can do this. I handle it. I'm not as weak of a boy as I was before—now, I can deal with it.

I can deal with it.

--

Author's Notes: OMG I AM SOOOOOOOOOOO SORRY! (bows head) I checked my last update date and it was TWO MONTHS AGO! OO I didn't know time had flown by so quick! Just to let you know, I had been working on this update for two months... however, it was one of those write-a-scene-and-then-throw-it-out things, so I actually wrote a lot but kept on deleting stuff, so it took me a long time. I also know that Gaara's personality and stuff got switched around AGAIN (bows head again) but I'm trying to get him to connect a little more with his past Gaara. So... yeah.

Anyways, I thank all my reviewers! You guys dwindled down after a while, probably because I wasn't updating/at the top of the list (hahaha) but otherwise, thanks! Also... I KNOW THIS IS BORING! Do not flame... everything gets more serious towards the end (now) and hopefully I wrapped up some stuff with Yashamaru and Itachi.

More wrapping up next chapter, where Sasuke makes ANOTHER APPEARANCE! Yay Sasuke! Also, shameless I know, but it's VOTING TIME! How many people vote that Sasuke gets together Sakura? Please raise your hand (cough)leaveareview(cough). Okay. Now how many people vote that Sasuke hates Sakura and dumps her? Raise your hand again! Now, how many people want Sasuke to get together with some other person? If you choose the third option, please leave a suggested name! But it cannot be a person that is paired up with in the story (pairings so far: Shikatem, Nejilee, ItaKisa, KibaHina, Gaanaru DUH).

Okay! This will help me with Sasuke next chapter. Thanks! (For reading all eighteen chapters -)


	19. Name: Hot Chocolate

Name:_ Spring Forth Christian Treatment Center_

Closing: _December 23rd, 2004_

Reason: _Lawsuit; misconduct; abuse; violation of codes_

Notes: _Owner of Treatment Center never found. Name is disclosed. _

_Attention please: all patients who were getting care in this center has now been moved to _Konoha City Treatment Center. _Thank you._

note received on: March 15th, 2007

reciever: Uzamaki Naruto, ex-patient. Suffering from MPD. Currently put alter-personality in remission, but resurfacing may happen again.

reaction: ...damn geezer.

--

**Breaking the Music **

_By FlightAngel _

--

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill _

--

Because both Kankuro and I feared for our lives if we even _dared_ take a step into our flat due to Temari's harpy-like temper, we needed a place to go. Thankfully, Itachi was more the happy to let us stay at his place for the night. I stayed at yours, now you stayed at mine." He chirps at us as we arrive at his front doorstep, "Plus, we have a bunch of empty room, you know. This house was built for around thirty people—now, it's only occupied by two." Kisame trails wordlessly behind as Itachi abruptly stops at the doormat and carefully unlocks the door.

The large gate-like wooden structure moans precariously as it swings open, and Itachi sticks his head out from behind the curve of the entrance-way, cautious.

"…hello?"

"Aniki! You're back from your…" One dark-haired, prissy Uchiha teenager stops his crossing from the hallway to the front door, where he suddenly adopts a rather menacing look in his eye. "Aniki… what the hell?"

"Otouto," Itachi says, using his CEO voice, "Kankuro and Gaara don't have a place to stay, so I'm allowing them to stay here—hn!" He holds up a finger when Sasuke opens his mouth, probably equipped with some quick-thought retort. "I have ultimate say in this household and I am allowing them to _stay_." He turns towards us, all cool and windswept. Kankuro and I have now decided to pull on rather emotionless faces. Kisame, who is still behind us all, decides to close the door.

Good thing, too. It was getting pretty chilly.

"Although we _do_ have lots of space in this household, I warn you, it gets kind of creepy after a while. I suggest you sleep with one of us… well, not sexually, but in the same room. Gaara, it'd be best if you sleep in Sasuke's room."

"—Aniki!" Sasuke, alarmed, has all the rights to look exasperated as he faces his brother, "Why can't he—?" He sighs, cutting off his sentence and looking worn. "Okay, okay, whatever. C'mon Gaara, let's go."

One tug and I find myself being dragged by his arm down a midnight corridor, up a flight of stairs, left turn and then a right. The blur of colors still crept at the edge of my mind; I rub my eyes a little with my free hand before being pulled inside Sasuke's _humongous, gigantic, rich-kid _room.

I mean… seriously. My whole flat can probably fit in this room, and more. The walls, painted ebony-black to midnight blue, speckles whites and silvers, glittering from the wall closest to me and across the roofed dome of the ceiling all the way to the end of the gigantic room, though there looked to be no end at all. Strangely enough, even after Sasuke flicked on the light switch, bathing the whole scene with an eye-straining fluorescent, I find myself feeling like I am in space.

Dark Sasuke-like space, anyway.

"Here's an extra futon… Naruto always sleeps on this whenever he comes over." A dark black futon-like thing is thrown in my general direction. I hastily step out of the way and let it land with a "whoomph" on the plush carpet, looking down at it before turning my gaze back to Sasuke, who was mumbling to himself and typing something into his laptop.

Seeing nothing better to do, I lean over and start tugging the futon into a position so it was parallel to the large queen-sized bed it's situated next to. After wasting a few precious minutes doing this, I quietly sit on it and cross my legs, eyes closed. I remember… the repeating words, over and over again: _I killed him, I killed him, oh, lord, I killed him, no, no, no, but he tried to kill me, BUT I KILLED HIM_. I shut the voice out of my head firmly, trembling as I turn to the other voices, quiet in my mind.

_I killed him._

_No._

_I killed him._

_No, remember what Kankuro said—he's the regent of Suna Tech, the _regent

_But I killed him._

_He's not dead!_

_Yes, but I tried to kill him—I tried to kill him and I almost did—all that blood…_

_HE TRIED TO KILL YOU!_

_B-but just because he tried to kill me… didn't mean I had the right to try to kill him…_

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you worthless piece of shit! Get up and get on with your life!  
_

_I already did.  
_

_It doesn't count! The only reason you "got on" with your life was because you FORGOT everything! Now that you know—you know every bad thing that has happened to you… you can really get over it. Truly get over it._

…

_You're Sensible Gaara, right?  
_

_That's me._

_Wow… I didn't even know I had you in my head…_

_Don't worry, dear, most people don't consciously recognize their sensible sides. It happens to everyone._

_But I loved him… and I thought… he loved me._

_I'm sure he does._

_BUT HE—_

_No feeling sorry for yourself, remember? I can't believe you're so dumb! Stop moping around and get with it!_

_He said he hated me! He said it!  
_

…

…

…

_Do any of you have a reply?_

_No._

_Sorry._

_Well, Gaara, some people say things that they don't mean. Like the time Kankuro asked you if you wanted an ice cream cone and you said "No" even though you really did want one…_

…_how did you remember that?  
_

_I'm you, remember?_

"Gaara."

_What's that? Whose voice is that?_

"Gaara."

_Is that mine? Or another's? Is it in my head?_

"Oy, _Gaara_!"

My eyes snap open, and I immediately recognize Sasuke's annoyed tick three inches from my face. I slowly let my eyes trail downward, to where he was holding a cup of… brown stuff under my nose.

"What were you doing? Meditating? Never pinned you as a meditating kind of guy… that was always something I categorized Neji as, you know…" He pushes the cup at me again, brown liquid sloshing the edges, "Here, take it."

I eye it suspiciously.

Sasuke scowls.

"Look, it's nothing poisonous, alright? It's not Pepsi either, so you can relax. It's just something my brother makes every once in a while—he only makes it 'cause Kisame likes it… despite his looks, he's actually a pretty decent cook. Here, take it." I finally accept the mug, the warmth of it heating up my bitterly cold hands. Sasuke reveals his own cup and we sit there on my—no, _Naruto's_—futon, sipping… something that tasted like hot chocolate.

"It _is_ hot chocolate," the Uchiha says dryly, and I shoot him one of my "_Okay, you can read my mind—that's weird"_ looks. He sort of balances his own Sasuke-and-Itachi decorated mug between his knees as he turns around and lightly tugs some of the sheets off the bed. I am amused at the picture—a four-year old Sasuke, pouting and dressed in a little red elf suit with Itachi, who looked vaguely in his teens, dressed in a Santa suit. There was a hand at the corner of the picture, gesturing the two brothers to shift closer. Unusually, Sasuke looked reluctant to edge closer to Itachi and vise versa. Compared to now, it was almost looking at a completely different family.

"I know," Sasuke says, doing one of his "_I'm cool and can read your mind better then Neji, ha, ha, ha" _things again, "This picture's really old… and for what's in your cup, it's called 'Chocomint Toddy'. Itachi found it on the internet one day and decided that hot chocolate and summer heats go well together. Anyways, why are you here? I thought you had your own condo to live in."

"We ran away," I say nonchalantly, shrugging, "and we can't go back without my sister going all harpy on us." I brought the chocolate to my lips and allowed myself a sip—very minty, with a sort of mocha taste in the background. I think I'd be able to drink this one cup but too many, too soon would probably make me sick to the stomach.

"Hn." is Sasuke's only reply, and I look at him curiously. Seeing the empty mug in the carpet next to him, I realize that he's most likely waiting for me to finish drinking my Toddy-choco thing. Though the mint stung, I gulped down the rest of the drink (it's a rather small mug, anyway) before sitting it neatly next to his. Unfortunately, there are no wonderful pictures of toddler!Sasuke and kid!Itachi. Instead, I got stuck with the lopsided reindeer.

I hate lopsided reindeers.

"Hm… it's about eight right now… plenty of time." Sasuke murmurs to himself before flopping down comfortably onto the futon. He gestures for me to do the same and I, after a moment of consideration, sigh and mimic him. "Lights off." He calls aloud and suddenly the lights blink out.

Okay, weird tech.

So here we are… laying side-by-side on a tiny futon, in the dark, me not even caring that I was at such close proximity with the brunette. Sure, we've had some squabbles over the past two weeks, but we've been friends long enough to not let a few fights get in the way… even if the fights were mostly directed towards a _common love interest_… nope… doesn't affect us at all… I think…

Anyway… normally, this would be a steaming moment for some person other then me, but to me everything is just… cool. The futon is slightly chilled, the blankets Sasuke had draped over use are cold and Sasuke himself is… icy. Definitely not a potential love interest, not like he ever was.

But still—I can't resist.

I poke him.

I can feel him twitch.

I poke him again.

He turns to face me, only several inches away from my own face, "What are you, Naruto? Stop it."

"Why are you so cold?"

Sasuke gives me a glare of utter disbelief, turns his back, and curls up into a ball. "I like sleeping with the air conditioning on."

_In March_? is all I can think of, but I stay silent.

We are quiet for a moment, both (or maybe it's just me) attempting to find enough sleep to sufficiently suffice tomorrow's horror-of-school, though secretly I didn't feel like going to school tomorrow. Yes, Neji will die of a heart-attack when he finds that his best friend intends to _ditch_ seven hours of _wonderful, mind-boggling learning fun_ and maybe take the family Chevy and drive up to Suna… and… visit someone… and… yeah. That's all I've got now. I still have plenty of time to think of ideas, however, and was about to do so when Sasuke had to just _kindly interrupt_ me with that cold, sarcastic voice of his.

I pride myself to say that my own cold, sarcastic voice can beat his to the ground.

"Gaara?"

A growl. Okay, maybe it was more of a _mental _growl, and yet I still couldn't help but slowly and dramatically turn towards him, my scariest _you-are-going-to-die-a-horrid-death_ expression pulled onto my face.

"_What_?"

Sasuke is immune to evil, malice-laced words, however. This is good. He sort of twists so that he is no longer laying on his back but on his side, facing me. Black hair spills silkily onto his pale, moonlit cheekbones, and I blink at him. He looks so much like a vampire right now. I'm tempted to just reach out and pull open his mouth, just to see if he has fangs.

Okay, now that's just weird, even for me. I snub that thought out of my mind and instead try to pay attention to what Sasuke just _had_ to interrupt me for.

"Aniki…" His body language is tense—even I can see the rigidness of his posture underneath the blanket, "You should be careful around him. He's not all that he seems…"

"I know that."

"No, you don't. Sure, you got past the drama king charade, but there's more to him then that. He's smooth-talking and a very good actor, of course, but he can be real brutal when he doesn't get what he wants. Even Kisame cowers beneath him. He knows that he can't go up against Aniki for crap." He narrows his eyes a little, looking distant, "He's complicated, too. I haven't exactly gotten a hold of what he's been up to recently—at least, not his real motives. His outward goals are very obvious, as he makes no effort to 'hide' them because they aren't real."

I stare at him with these large cyan eyes of mine, which usually glow green but today holds a small tinge of blue in their midst, furrowing my brow. "…so?"

Sasuke looks slightly ticked, as if he was shooting me all these implications and I wasn't piecing them all together. Well, that _is_ what is happening. And I still haven't pieced the clues together.

I was never really good at those mystery puzzles anyways (I am, of course, blatantly referring to another one of Temari's "family time" events where she sat us down and made us—us being Kankuro, Baki and me—play some mystery game called "Clue", which was stupid because I couldn't win. After Baki figured out the puzzle for the sixth time in a row and a look of utter and pure murder had slowly crept onto my face, Temari finally had the smarts to call it quits and quickly usher the other two out before I had a chance to go all "_Oh my gosh, I AM A MURDERER!"_ on them.)

"Aniki," Sasuke continues to grudgingly explain, "likes to use people for his own ulterior motives. Oh, sure, he always has another 'motive' to back up the goodness of his actions, but the truth behind what he does usually centers around his selfishness or something like that."

I think. Hard. Okay, so maybe Itachi _does_ have ulterior motives to everything he does, but I think he really does care about some people. I mean—who wouldn't? Even I (who has held the rank of "Creepy-boy-of-the-year" five years in a row) care about some people, even if I don't even _know_ them that well. I also remember during the therapy session he mentioned that he cared about Kisame and Sasuke when asked.

Caring about Sasuke… leads to Naruto… which leads to me… which leads to Sasuke's comment about "using" people… which means…

My eyes widen as I speak: "Itachi's using me to help you break up with Naruto so you don't suffer horrible consequences due to him and you not really working out that way so you are then forced to look for someone more your type who may or may not be someone we all know and Itachi is doing this because he cares about you and not because he wants to bug you and ruin your life?"

Sasuke blinks. He blinks again.

"…what?"

I prop myself up, "Doesn't it make sense? I mean—you say that Itachi's selfish, but doesn't he do things because he cares? But he makes it look like he's just being selfish when he's actually being caring? 'Cause he's afraid to be caring because you think he's selfish, and he wants to keep his self-image? Maybe that's true… or maybe he's just being caring!"

"Gaara," Sasuke says to me slowly. "Have you been picking up habits again? Maybe from Naruto this time?"

I sigh, defeated (and deflated). I had just had the most _wonderful_ revelation, and Sasuke wouldn't hear any of it. He didn't appreciate my wonderful revelation-ness. I don't get them that often, you know.

"…whatever."

I lay down again.

There is a quiet, rather awkward silence for a while as I try to force myself to go to sleep. But to no avail—it seems that my little expedition off to Umino-san's place and then Sasuke's hadn't left me enough time to grab my medicine along the way.

The medicine had been prescribed to me right after I had been released from the treatment center and had only been opened twice—once when Baki left and another right after I found Sasuke and Naruto doing who-knows-what in Professor Orochimaru's hallway. Because of its lack of use, it often finds itself covered in dust, sitting at the way back of the medicine cabinet where it becomes literally forgotten until something like _this_ comes up and I throw all of Temari's precious supplements all over the place just to find that damn jar.

I feel nauseated and am probably suffering from some case of mild insomnia as the mutterings of my own voices start to rift through my head again—Loving Gaara who coos about Naruto and hugs Sasuke behind my back; Angry Gaara who just can't resist that sledgehammer and attempts to knock my brains out; Sensitive Gaara who keeps poking holes in my previous conversations, trying to find a weak spot _anywhere_, somewhere to accuse another of hating me; Sensible Gaara still trying to loudly convince me about Yashamaru—on and on and on and on… I close my eyes and furrow my brow, wishing desperately for some music.

Or pills.

Or maybe both. Yeah, that'd be nice.

"Gaara?"

Agh, damn that Sasuke to hell. Seriously. I roll over so I am facing him again, though I shouldn't have bothered as he was staring at the ceiling anyway, hands loosely folded behind his head, a contemplating look decorating his face. Whatever. I shut my eyes tight, not planning on opening them up again except there are dire circumstances. Which will never happen.

Just 'cause I'm awesome like that.

"Hn…?"

"Naruto…"

Alert, awake, and focused. My eyes snap open and I stare, transfixed, at Sasuke's profile. Alright, so I _did_ open my eyes in the end… but Naruto is _always_ considered a dire circumstance. So, ha. I _technically_ didn't break my own rule.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

…I'm such a dork.

"Hn?"

"I was talking to him yesterday…" Black eyes are still focused intently on the ceiling and Sasuke starts to play with a piece of his hair, twirling it around a finger, unwinding it slowly and then resuming his twining, "Talking… about you."

I am silent.

Okay, so what do I have to say to that? '_Oh, so what did you talk about_?' or '_Did he say he hated me_?' or, maybe, '_Did he say he didn't like you that way anymore and wanted to go out with me now_?'

In my dreams.

"We were first talking about the end of junior year and the band… you know, with Neji leaving and all. We're still begging him to stay here but the only one that can sway him is either you or Lee, and, sorry to say this, both of you don't really seem to have the guts to go up and try to change his mind, do you?" I bristle at that comment, but don't take the bait. Sasuke just has that annoying habit of throwing in those _one or two_ itty-bitty words that just ticks someone off big time, and by now I'm rather used to freezing up and letting it go. Really—if I'd attacked Sasuke every time he snobbily insults me, we'd both be long ago rotting in some tomb off in a cemetery somewhere.

"Anyway… we were talking about the future and Naruto was all upset because he wants to get a music major when he grows up, but we all know about his horrible grades, yes? He takes band with me and the teacher is always constantly scolding him for forgetting his instrument and not practicing and all this other crap when they don't even _know_ him. They just _think_ he's slacking off when, in reality, he's working so hard he's almost passing out every night." I don't miss the slight clenching of Sasuke's hand, nor the hardening of his eyes.

Naruto…I am in love with him. But then, just because I am doesn't mean I know every piece of his personal life, unless he had told me himself. I like to respect his space as, in truth, he respects mine. He's never asked me about my past and doesn't butt into my fights with Kankuro and Temari. Even nowadays, with me racing around trying to wrap my head around the confusing details my brain just had to conveniently misplace somewhere for five or more years, he's pretty understanding and waits for me finish spazzing.

I, in turn, have never been too nosy about what he'd been doing at the treatment center, or about where his parents are and why he lives with his aunt and uncle, or even why he's never free on most weekday nights and sometimes have rings around his eyes when it is a Saturday, of all days. In retrospect, I can see how Naruto could probably confide more in Sasuke then me. I mean, the Uchiha does have the looming advantage of being Naruto's oldest childhood friend.

Damn, makes me so angry… I feel my brow furrow as, suddenly, a wave of rage washes over me. Mind and feelings fight… or, to be more accurate, brain and chemicals fight. I really have got to stop clenching the blankets. Maybe I can try self-hypnosis (according to Kankuro, it's actually supposed to work): Gaara, you are not angry. You are just upset that you cannot grab a hold of your life at the moment. Stop blaming it on other people or other situations. _It is nobody's fault. _Stop clenching those blankets… stop clenching… calm breathing… breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out…

Okay, I'm better now (who knew a combination of Kankuro's self-hypnosis and Temari's stress-relief exercises are actually rather effective? They'd both be so proud of me, not that I'd care. Really.)

Sasuke pretends he doesn't notice, but I know that he knows that I know that he isn't really as dumb as to pretend to not notice that the blankets had changed directions several times after his comment. I'm pretty sure he even counts my breathing before continuing.

"Even though he's staying with his aunt and uncle, he's always so independent. He's been working three part-time jobs this year _plus_ working with our gang just to make enough money to try and sustain himself after he graduates. He's so stubborn—he won't accept anyone's help—mine, Neji's, even his own aunt and uncle's…" He blinks, agonizingly slow. I know because he doesn't continue talking until he's finished. "He's got some odd thousand dollars stored up somewhere—but even then, it's not enough to get to college or anything. So even if he does get accepted somewhere, he wouldn't have the money to afford the tuition by himself and he won't take his aunt and uncle's money."

A pause.

"That's the real reason why he's been so crazy about this 'Battle of the Bands' thing these days. He needs the win to hopefully get it on his college application forms and maybe get a scholarship."

I am silent, brooding. Personally, right now, I don't have the money either. I keep forgetting the whole "will" thing my father left me. I mean, it hasn't even occurred to me—not really, at least—that I will be inheriting a high-tech company in… oh, not-God, how many days? Three? A week? Sometime soon, I know.

If I inherit that damn company, it meant that I'd probably be forced to attend some high-class university studying under an engineering degree (though both math and science are some of my worst skills) and then get out of college and end up working as a tech/engineer for the rest of life.

Ahem. Reality-check?

_So _not going to happen(if I have any say in this. Which I have).

I do muddle about the school waters and manage to rummage up some half-decent grades that keep Temari off my back and me away from the counseling office, though probably not enough to get a scholarship, which I'd need if I refused to take over the company.

Which meant, in the end, that I needed to win the Battle of Bands just as badly as Naruto needed to win as well. Dammit.

"And?" I look at the Uchiha from the side of my eye, "College shouldn't be the only thing Naruto thinks about, is it? Why are you telling me this?"

Sasuke has the nerve to look slightly irritated. "I'm getting to it, alright?"

If he is, he's taking his sweet time. Sure, I'm an insomniac if I don't take my medicine (which I do, mechanically, every morning. I just never feel the urge to mention it as I have been doing so every day after my release from the Treatment center and has slowly turned from becoming a habit to becoming a part of a crazy boy named Sabaku no Gaara who seriously needs a makeover) but this is absolutely insane. Does anyone know that feeling where it takes someone so long to get to the point that you just completely forget what they were saying in the first place? I know I do that sometimes (to Temari's annoyance) so I'm a pretty patient guy, and all that extra information about Naruto is useful, but I'm getting rather suspicious.

Why is Sasuke telling me all this? What's his ulterior motive? (And yes, I blatantly aware of how similar Sasuke is to Itachi—if Itachi has an ulterior motive to everything, so does Sasuke).

"Naruto and I've known each other since kindergarten. We literally bonded over stomping ants in the playground." He sighs, "From a very young age, I knew that Naruto wasn't quite right. I mean, all the other kids avoided him like the plague and even Naruto himself would sometimes curl up in a small ball, crying, refusing to respond to anything." He turns towards me, "This was before his aunt and uncle took him in or anything. He was still at the orphanage at the time."

Orphanage? I had thought his Aunt and Uncle had adopted him when he was a baby. I really should be immune to all surprises now. I feel slightly guilty inside—I mean, I'm nosing into Naruto's personal life (even if I'm not exactly willing to) without him telling me—until I realize that Neji had probably told the same thing about me to Naruto.

I narrow my eyes. Is it normal to have your best friends talk behind your back?

Whatever.

"It didn't really come out until he was about eight or nine, though. I was going to go pick him up from school at our normal place, under the old gnarled tree behind the fence, when I realized that he wasn't there… plus, there was screaming. A lot of screaming." He shudders, as if reminiscing a horrible nightmare, "I headed inside… and came upon Naruto in the hallway with our teacher, Utae-san." He lifts his pale hands out from beneath the blanket, up the air so we can both see them, glowing white in the dark. "His hands were around her neck… like this."

He suddenly clenches his fingers together, and I watch, fascinated, as that skeletal image morphs into Naruto's hands around a pale and fleshy throat, strangling the life out of a woman.

"What happened?"

Sasuke pauses for dramatic effect (or for the sake of being tantalizingly irritating, which isn't that far-fetched of an idea).

"She died."

Silence. I stare upwards at the ceiling, and, though it'd be odd for anyone other then me to feel this way, I feel relieved. Utterly relieved.

Who knows?

Possibly, half my stress comes from the fact that I know that I am a murderer deep down inside me, no matter what reason I can muster up for my actions. Knowing that the person I am in love with has gone through the same thing is… well, relieving. At least we won't be completely and utterly disgusted over each other if we ever do admit to our wonderfully bloody pasts.

I stare at Sasuke harder.

Sasuke stares… or possibly glares… back.

"At the treatment center… do you remember anything unusual about Naruto? Anything out of the ordinary that may be the reason why he was there at the first place?"

I hate it when Sasuke asks questions that make me think hard. It makes me feel so… foolish. Yes, I know I am being weird. I am always weird.

"Yes, yes I do."

The insane doctor. Naruto, bursting in. The bloodshed and horror—all the things my mind had tossed aside somewhere all those years ago… Apparently, seeing the love of my life nearly rip a guy open, act completely out of character and me almost getting raped by said guy isn't an important thing to remember. Curse you, horribly deformed brain of mine (Temari says the reason I act funny is because of my schizophrenia… which means: curse you, my awful, no-good, rotten father for giving me this horrible brain-disease!)

Sasuke just sighs. "I don't want to discuss that part of Naruto at the moment… but you know what happened, yes? You know about Naruto's identity disorder?"

I blink. Slowly.

"…identity disorder?"

Sasuke looks frustrated, looks as if about to explain, and then happens to look up, shocked. It takes me a while to find what he is staring at, and the moment I do, he curses.

"Dammit! It's eight thirty already? Ugh, I took so long? Gaara! Up! Up!" He springs forward, blanket spilling everywhere as he quickly gets to his feet, flashing me quick glances as he dusts himself off.

"Up?"

"Up!"

He does something odd with his fingers and the lights glow on, a different, warmer hue this time, stinging my eyes. I immediately shut them.

Kicking his chair back with a barely clothed leg (he is clad in a tight white tank top and some shorts), he sits himself down before typing at a scary, inhuman-like speed on his laptop. My eyes adjust the brightening light and I slowly open them to glare pointedly at Sasuke.

"Sasuke, what the hell—"

"Shh! Don't interrupt me!"

I throw him a _listen-to-me-or-else-you-will-find-your-eyeballs-somewhere-other-than-your-eye-socket_ look, not like it matters as his back was towards me anyway. At least it made me feel better. I inwardly moan and lean against the side of the Sasuke's bed, slumped over as I try to readjust my thoughts. As usual, most of the troubling memories or ideas get chucked into the "Gaara's Forget-it-now-Remember-later Folder", though I will myself to go back and take out the files about Naruto's orphanage. As said before, it wasn't like me to pry and I probably wasn't going to ask Naruto about it anyway, so every scrap of information came to use.

Sasuke is now shouting at someone over the phone.

"Don't bother me! No! Grr, yes, I know, I know, you've been planning this—no! He doesn't know! Don't antagonize me about this! An. Ta. Ga. Nize. Don't you know what that means? It means to _irritate_. Don't irritate me about this!"

I slump to the left. I slump to the right. When it was obvious that Sasuke was never going to address the issue of what he was about to say, I get up on my feet, gather the now dried-out mugs (I hadn't realized we had left them on the floor… evidently, Sasuke wasn't actually planning to go to sleep, as he, 1) did not brush his teeth; 2) hadn't cleaned up the mugs and 3) taken off his clothes. I, being the weird boy I am, took no notice of these things… bah. Whatever. Not that I care) and proceed to walk out of the room and into the hallway.

Ok, not a good idea.

Did I mention that this house was big? Like, really, really _humongously_ oversized? Yeah? Well, I'm mentioning it again. Why? Because the moment I stepped outside, I got lost. Like, _really_ lost.

Wandering down some innocent looking hallways, I wander and wander and wander until it feels like I've been wandering around forever, like one of those lab rats you see on TV when those damn scientists want to "test a new theory" or some other crap like that. I'm not usually sentimental, but I just have to say that that is just plain _cruel_, especially if I can feel the mice's pain. Stupid scientist. Stupid Sasuke. Stupid house.

There was once a time when I wouldn't have cared if I was lost, or if I was in love with one of my friends, or that everyone around me seems to be getting hooked up or something. There was once a time when I used to lock myself in a broom closet giggling as I attempted to chop off my hands with a butter knife, because Baki wouldn't let me get my hands on anything else sharper than that after the Yashamaru incident. Ah, good times.

Anyway, I am still lost. I crash into a wall and feel very, very dazed. Ow.

Is it my fault that Sasuke and Itachi like their stuff black? Well, I like it too, but red's always been my color. Black is just… black. It kills my eyes and I don't really like how much I stand out with my embarrassingly red hair. I carefully massage my forehead and head down the now looming hallway, feeling my maniacal temper start to rise. Can't I find anything here?

Oh, and I lost the mugs somewhere too. No matter. Hopefully, Itachi scouts through all the halls every day and finds it somewhere covered with cobwebs.

And then, I hear it. A peal of laughter. People! I feel a spark of hope lift within me, if I had any hope left. There was a chance that I'd get out of this maze and not suffer for all eternity without ever seeing my sister, my brother or my guarding again and not going to school and confessing to Naruto after all!

I wander and wander and wander towards the voices until I walk through an archway and, lo and behold, see Itachi, Kisame, and my brother eating dinner. It was Kisame doing the laughing, in this sort of guttural manner. Scary, as this was the first time I've seen him laugh.

Can people's teeth naturally be that sharp?

"Gaara," Kankuro silently pleads at me with our silent exchanges, "help me!"

"Ah, Gaara!" Kisame turns around and addresses me, and Kankuro cringes in a way that I just _knew_ that I was now royally screwed. "You should join us for dinner! Itachi makes some kickass dinners, you know!" I look at the dinner.

It looks good.

I am hungry.

Thus, I decide to sit down and eat (well, not that I had much of choice, as if I had decided to incline, Kisame would've forced me to sit down anyway). I wonder briefly if Sasuke knew I was gone and immediately cancelled the thought. Even if he knew, he wouldn't be the type to go looking out for me.

Kisame immediately fills the air with chatter, some things odd, awkward, or entirely inappropriate at the dining table. From the first couple of encounters I've had with this guy, I had already categorized him as the "big, dangerous and silent" type, as all I've seen him do until now was trace Itachi and act like one big stone-like shadow.

I have to revise that now. Does this guy ever shut up?

Itachi makes little agreeing noises, cocking his head, nodding, sometimes commenting or replying, but being mostly silent. I don't know—maybe their character has something to do with being "home". I mean, I'm not sure but I think we (the Sabaku siblings) act differently than what we'd act like in public; I know personally that the way I think and comment to myself isn't exactly what I reflect on the outside. Hmph. It wasn't any of my business anyway.

Kankuro, who's been gnawing on that stainless steel spoon for about five minutes now, looks pained.

"…and then Dei was IMing me yesterday about all his and Sasori's antics the past couple of weeks and he even sent me _pictures_. There were, like, six different positions and I was hoping we could try them out, if you have the time and energy of course. You want me to forward them to you? They're really quite interesting; there's this one where Sasori's head is _somewhere_ in Dei's body and their legs look so tangled—eh, I don't think I'm that flexible… oh! They sent this other one that looks a little easier, but it needs stuff like _ropes_, and _candles_, and _whips_ and some other weird stuff…"

Itachi nodded along, though looked as if Kisame received these types of emails _all the time_. I never knew nor wanted to know our wonderful neighbor, Dei's, personal life until now, what with him and this "Sasori" guy sending Kisame and Itachi homosexual sex positions to try out once in a while. Kankuro's practically foaming at the mouth. But then, he's friends with Dei, so what's the big deal?

I focus instead on my food. Itachi makes rather good food. I've eaten his hot chocolate and some of his yoga cookies from last time I was here, and yet I still find his food fascinating. What appears to be green spaghetti with a purplish sauce and almond and walnut bits sits in front of me, as well as a generous cup of fresh mineral water. A large pot sits in the middle of the table, full of more purple sauce and walnut bits, a smaller, wider plate next to it full of green noodles.

Never before have I seen anything like this in my life.

I must make a note to tell Temari about this and pray that she won't set our flat on fire like the last time one of us brothers asked her to make us something specific. The landlord was after our throats for _weeks_ and Baki gave us all a fierce tongue-lashing after finally getting that blasted man off our backs. More good times.

"…and then I said to him, 'No!' and he was like, 'Yeah!' and we started discussing the best way to extract a piece of metal from deep inside one's body, and he was just like 'Just cut them all the way open and pull it out!' and I replied, 'But what if they bleed to death? What about infections and all that?' and he just said, 'Whatever, that's their problem; we're just here to take that damn thing out, right?' So anyway, Itachi, I think you should seriously consider interviewing that guy; I mean, gotta love that personality and everything, eh?"

"If I interviewed every man you recommended me from these 'executive parties' you attend, I'd be up to my elbows full of paperwork. Not until I get a background check and screening with I even consider something like that, Kisame." Itachi says patiently as he daintily slurps up his noodle. Kisame just pushes the food inside his mouth and lets all else fly. Ugh. I back away from the blue-skinned man and shift closer to my brother.

Kankuro has now decided to start gnawing on the stainless steel fork. At this rate, he'd have destroyed all the Uchiha silverware by the time we get out of this place. Like hell we were going to pay the price.

I glare at Kankuro from the edge of my eyes and take another bite out of my green and purple spaghetti. Tastes… different. Not unpleasant.

"…so I heard that that new Make Out Paradise book came out yesterday and I was looking through it, you know, and I was wondering, 'Heck, why doesn't this guy have a gay version of this thing' and I was thinking that maybe I can ask Sa—oh, hey Sasuke! How you doing?"

The young Uchiha ignores his brother's boyfriend and instead, harshly pulls my arm up and whispers, "I have to talk you. Like, _right now_."

Itachi, eavesdropping, frowns. "Now, Sasuke, Gaara is a guest and you really shouldn't interrupt him as he's eating dinner; it's very impolite, as you know…" Sasuke just throws a sort of snarl at his older brother and gruffly drags me away, not unlike the way he did when I first entered the Uchiha household today, either.

Instead of leading me back to his dark-space-Sasuke room, he pulls me down a flight of stairs to the basement, throws me into a room full of bright, flashing lights (shouldn't there be a sign that says: "Warning! Flashing lights may cause seizures!"? Of course, the Uchiha probably never hire seizure-prone employees, so whatever) and roughly kicks open a drawer.

I stare at him.

Squatting down, he mutters to himself darkly as he rummages through the humongous, metallic-blue cabinet, pulling out an assortment of little boxes, putting them back in, pulling them out again. I sit in a cool black rolling chair, trying hard not to rapidly blink at the flashing lights surrounding me.

Ah, the agony—they burn!

"Does that bother you?" Sasuke asks, doing his _I-read-your-mind_ thing again, "Tech off." Everything made a sudden, chopped-up whirring noise and the lights flicked out. The flashing lights, I mean. I open my eyes again and aim a darkened glare in the general direction of Sasuke's duck butt. Again, with me glaring at his back. Well, at least it made me feel a little better.

Finally finding a box that looked just like all the other boxes he'd rejected, he chucks it at me and I catch it by reflex, almost falling out of my chair before straightening myself up. It is _not_ cool for Sabaku no Gaara to fall out of a chair. That'll be too much like a Japanese manga, for not-God's sake.

I stare at the little black box and Sasuke says, "It's a cellphone."

"A what?"

"A cellphone."

I stare at it. I stare at him. He turns towards me and places his hands on his hips in this oh-so-feminine manner that makes me want to snort. I don't.

"It's for emergencies. We noticed you didn't have one so I'm giving you one."

"Don't you think you giving me a cellphone goes against my heritage as a Suna tech heir?"

"Yes, but it's your temporary line."

Before I can make a comprehensible comeback that is not only short, but to the point, he interrupts me.

"Sit down."

I open my hands wide and made a pointed glare towards my current position. He taps the hardwood floor and I slide, very slowly out of my chair. You can say I was still a little ticked off at Sasuke pulling me out of my odd, though well-cooked, dinner.

I'm still hungry.

"My point is this: you can have him. I do not care. As long as you do not drive him to commit suicide or to become evil or to become a Satanist or anything stupid and idiotic like that, I am fine."

Huh? _HUH?!_

What in the world? _Did I just hear that come out of Uchiha Sasuke's mouth?!_

Inner Gaara is going berserk with a pogo-stick and is giving me a migraine. Outer Gaara just looks blank.

Sasuke takes out a water bottle out of one of the cabinets, opens it effortlessly and takes a swig. I watch him, numb.

"And don't feel bad for me—not like you would, being the cold prick you are, no offense—but I've given up on him. I don't know… I wanted him close, but then when he got too close I chickened out and drove him away… there's no way for him to come back to me now, either." Another swig. It would've been funnier if he was choking down vodka or something, but then a drunken Sasuke is never a funny sight to see the day after. "God, I'm such a jerk. Don't mind me… maybe I should've taken Orochimaru's offer after all…"

"I don't know what you are muttering about," I state blatantly in my patented Gaara-monotone, "but if it involves Orochimaru, you must have lost your mind."

Another swig of water.

"I lost my mind a long time ago."

There is a silence as Sasuke keeps gulping down the water and me on the floor, staring at my new (temporary) cellphone and glancing at him, worried, at the corner of my eyes. Of course, my face remained blank but I was still worried. Him, suddenly dragging me out of dinner, sitting me down, and telling me I can have "him" (I hope that he's talking about Naruto because if he isn't, I'll twist his neck 'round) and now acting emo and considering siding with Orochimaru, pedophile-ing or something (not like that's a word, but as I said before, I am Sabaku no Gaara and Sabaku no Gaara has the rights to make new words whenever he feels like it).

Happy Gaara, Worried Gaara, Maniacal Gaara, Sensible Gaara, and many other different Gaaras are crowding in my mind right now, blubbering some nonsense in the background as I cock my head at Sasuke, who stumbles a little before falling to the floor. Damn medication. Damn Sasuke.

"Shuddup."

Oops, did I say that aloud? "What's wrong with you?"

He opens his eyes and glares at me menacingly, pointing at his water bottle with his left hand. I point at it. He points at it again. I point at it, raising a brow. He throws up his hands.

"You're being difficult, Gaara." he growls as he attempts to preserve his reputation and personality while curling up and putting his head in his knees. "Itachi evidently thought it funny to put sake in a water bottle. Screw that, he thought it was funny to put it in _all_ the water bottles; I drank one yesterday and never thought he'd put that damn liquor in _every single one of them_."

Um. Oh. _Awkward_. I don't say anything, of course, just stayed silent as Sasuke gets up, shakes his head a little as if to clear the edge of drunkenness that had crept up upon him, and motioned me to follow him. I follow.

We patter up the steps again and back into his room (thank goodness, I wouldn't have been able to find it myself, if I'd tried) and Sasuke leaves me on the futon while he goes into his _humongous oversized_ bathroom to take a shower, brush his teeth, and do whatever else Uchihas tend to do whenever they get ready to go to sleep. I briefly wonder what I'll do to clean my teeth, as my toothbrush wasn't exactly something I had grabbed on my way out the door. I finally decide to use Scope.

Ah, wonderful scope. It cleans everything (even toilet bowls… I know because of that one time Temari wanted us—us being Kankuro and I—to do the chores, and she refused to tell us where the toilet bowl cleaner was).

We're still silent, however. I mean, who wouldn't be?

Of course, I could pretend that what he was talking about earlier wasn't Naruto and that I didn't get what he was trying to say, but then even I'm not that dense. Plus, I make a really bad liar. I work my brain over this as I sit and sit and sit while waiting for Sasuke to finish his damn shower (he might've fallen over in the stall due to his drunkenness, but I wasn't about to go in there and check).

What happened today seems like someone taking my life, molding it as a pinball and rocketing around one of those pinball machines you find those arcades. I mean, it goes something like this: Kankuro and I fight, Temari locks us in Kankuro's room, we run away to Umino-san's place, meet up with crazy Itachi and shark-teeth Kisame, go over to their house, have a small meaningful talk with Sasuke, get lost, eat dinner with "the rest of the family" plus Kankuro, meet up with Sasuke again, Sasuke gives me a cell phone and tells me _very literally_ that I can have Naruto (Inner Gaara is still running around in circles here), Sasuke gets drunk and decides to go to bed, and I am now sitting here, waiting for him to be done so I can go clean my mind—and mouth—out with Scope.

He said I could have Naruto.

He said I could have _Naruto_.

Rewind. Naruto. _Naruto. _So we've been having a silent competition for these two weeks and all of a sudden he decides to just give up and give me his blessing (like a father giving off his daughter)?!

I am slightly suspicious. I mean, this is _Sasuke_ we are talking about—super-possessive, keep-away-from-Naruto-or-else-I'll-mince-you ulterior-motive Uchiha Sasuke. If he was just "giving up" Naruto, he might have an ulterior motive or plan up his sleeve to later snatch him away… but if I looked upon Sasuke like a _normal human being_ (which he is not, I assure you—he is as normal of a human being as I am), the reason behind his white flag is the fact that either _a) _Naruto rejected him _b)_ He realized that he and Naruto would never make a good pairing or _c) _He just gave up?! The water stops running. I emotionlessly glance at the closed bathroom door, face blank, though inside, it's more like this:

Gyaaaaaahahahaaaaaaaaablahuhuhuhuhbiwalwaaaaaaa

Very literally, thank you very much.

"Do you have any scope?"

"Do I have any what?"

Sasuke comes out half-naked and dripping wet, hair plastered to his head in what one might suppose to be a "sexy" manner, though I continue to wrack my brain over today's wonderful new developments. "Why do you want scope? And no, we don't have any."

Dammit. Whatever. I show him my blinding white teeth (despite my murderous past, dysfunctional family, crazy love life and twisted record, I've always kept my _nice, sharp teeth _clean and pretty) and ask, very politely, for a toothbrush.

"You have anything I can clean these with?"

All right, so maybe I wasn't all that polite, but growing up practically mute and living with Kankuro does wonders to your politeness. Sasuke chucks a thin white plastic item in my general direction and I catch it effortlessly in between my teeth. Score for the volcano boy.

After brushing my teeth with tomato-flavored toothpaste (tomato flavored?) I head back into Sasuke's humongous room and notice that the futon had been changed. Sasuke, on the other hand, is sprawled very matter-of-factly on his bed, face down, under large blue blankets decorated with that weird fan that seems to decorate everything Sasuke owns or wears. He doesn't move as I pass him, even when I decide to poke him with my toe.

He could've been dead, for all I know.

Tucking into my now red futon (I actually didn't mind the blue one all that much; I mean, it was _Naruto's _for goodness' sake—I'll sleep in anything that that blonde had touched, most likely), I close the lights ("Lights off. Oh. It worked.") and ponder

I know with absolute certainty what I am going to do tomorrow. And I know I'm going to do it. Trying to hush out the giggling murmurings in my mind with a tune I happened to remember from the radio, I turn onto my side, open my eyes, and give the floor one of my rare, white-teethed grins.

"Good night."

--

"Good morning!" A loud thump. A groan. I crack open a tired, probably purple-ringed eye and glare at whatever had just opened the damn curtains, letting the sun blind me in all its goody-goody brilliance. Judging from the growling noise now being emitted from that ball on the queen-sized bed, Sasuke is having similar thoughts.

"Aniki!" The mentioned Uchiha ignores his little brother's protests and literally envelops the teenager in a sort of blanket-cocoon hug, leaning over the squirming bundle's shoulders and giving me a quick, millisecond wink.

Finally, Sasuke breaks loose. "Aniki!" He shrieks in what I might call a morning-throat shriek—high-pitched and raspy—"I'm going to kill you! _Get out of my room! _I hate you!"

Itachi smoothly pulls himself away from the flaming youth, pulls on a stern face, and says, "Breakfast's ready; you better not be late for school again, Sasuke, or else you'll never get the same kind of scores _I _got when I was your age, you understand me? Oh, and you, too, Gaara. Except for the grade part. But breakfast is ready, and if you don't get your little butt down into the dining room in the next five minutes, Kisame will have eaten it all." Before the younger Uchiha had a chance to reply, the elder CEO had vanished.

"I _hate _him," Sasuke growls, hair mussed as he slowly drags himself out of bed, "I hate him for waking me up, I hate him for spiking my water, and I hate him with all my soul for giving me this goddamn hangover. Gaara, aren't you getting up?"

"No."

"You'll miss breakfast."

Silence.

"You'll be late for school."

"I'm not planning to go to school today."

"Really?"

Silence.

He narrows his eyes, though doesn't question exactly where I was planning to go, turning his back towards me as he rummages through his enormous wardrobe before picking out a long-sleeved black shirt and some black jeans. The black-clad gothic-like member of our group—at least, he would be if he didn't insist on wearing that dorky headband.

"I like my headband." he snaps at me coldly in another "I-read-your-mind" moments as he tugs it onto his forehead. "My parents gave it to me for my fifth birthday. Actually, my mother won it for me at a festival." I raise my eyebrow, waiting for more, but the other adolescent wasn't about to spill his life story for me detail-by-detail like he had done last time (I am almost positive that he did that last time just because Naruto was there). He finishes dressing and I wait until the pitter-patter of his footsteps fade away before throwing off my own covers and shaking my head.

Running a lithe hand through my hair, I realize how crumpled my shirt and pants must be from sleeping in them all night long (I had forgotten to take them off before sleeping; wonderful, another reason Temari would have for eating me alive) and shake my head again. Stupid hair.

As I get up and around to clean my face in then nice, three-sink, platform shower and bathtub bathroom Sasuke just happens to own (even Naruto's house isn't this luxurious; I'm guessing that Uchiha Corps. must be more successful than the Make-Out Paradise Erotica crap that Naruto's uncle, Jiraiya, sells) I realize that I wouldn't be able to make it out of the room alive without getting lost again, like last time.

Wonderful. I am so stupid.

I peer out the window, wondering if I could shimmy down that tree and survive. I mean, it's the quickest way out, right? Or, maybe I can rediscover my awesome Tarzan powers and swing my way out. Or, perhaps, I'm actually the long lost grandson of Superman and all I have to do is jump out the window and hope I don't get hit by some random, aerial kryptonite. Yes, and maybe I shouldn't be here blanking out and wasting a precious ten seconds thinking about such stupid things like this.

Thankfully, however, I did not need to shimmy down a tree, become Tarzan, _nor _commit almost certain suicide by throwing myself out the window as Itachi, right at that moment, stuck his towel-wrapped head into the room. "Gaara, are you not coming down for breakfast? Sorry, Kisame ate all the sour-cream cookies; he's working on the pepper-eggs right now, so you better hurry…"

"Um… can you show me the way to the dining room?"

"What? Oh, well, I guess this house is kind of big. Here, let me get my mascara and lip gloss first, just hold on a second." I wait as Itachi whirls down the hall and whirls back up again, towel gone and makeup kit in his left hand. "Don't tell anyone about _this_," he points at the bag. "Bad for the company, you know. Anyway…" He makes the same exact gesture Sasuke had made towards me yesterday to follow him and I follow.

Funny how similar brothers can be. Not-God, I hope Kankuro and I aren't that similar. I'll kill myself before letting me become a player like him.

I shuffle behind him and find myself, once again, in the dining room. I don't even bother to look at what Kisame was doing over there with those eggs; I couldn't tell if he was eating them, molesting them, or both. Ugh.

Sasuke sits opposite of Kisame and next to Kankuro (who is looking almost as ragged as I am—possibly, Kisame and Itachi were up to their "antics" all night long… ha, ha, loser) and has chosen to eat a more traditional Japanese breakfast: miso soup, fish and rice. I briefly look around to see where the Asian cuisine had come from before realizing that all the origins of food had come from… _Itachi_.

"Does he do all the cooking here?" I ask Sasuke, who nods curtly before swallowing his mouthful of rice.

"We used to have a cook, but then she left after we complained about the food… we had, like, a gazillion more cooks but they all quit because of our 'snobbish Uchiha taste buds' or something, so Itachi took the task upon himself. I mean, he's the CEO but he's not above cooking, you know." I peer at Kisame again and see that he has finished molesting—er, _eating_—his eggs and was now working on the English muffins

Leaning down, I pick up an English muffin before Kisame can devour it and turn towards Kankuro, who had also chosen a more Japanese diet.

"Kankuro," I say flatly, "I need to borrow the car."

Kankuro looks at me suspiciously between narrowed, stormy green eyes.

"…why? Can't you take the school bus with mini-Itachi or something?" I glare straight back, all electrifying and demanding, and he looks down.

"I'm not going to school." I declare flatly. "I'm skipping." I face Itachi. "Itachi, can you drive my brother to his college?"

Itachi is silent and staring forward out of the kitchen window, gaze set and steady as he slowly steps back and faces the table, holding a plate of pancakes. "I have a meeting at eight," he murmurs, "so if he doesn't mind going early, he can ride with me. Kisame, get ready my briefcase—what are you doing?"

"Mommy muffin had sex with Daddy muffin and they had two baby muffins," Kisame cackles insanely as he shifts the little muffin bits around, "but then one of the baby muffins died and Mommy muffin and Daddy muffin were sad… so they had sex and had more baby muffins…" he places them all carefully in a row. "But then… _the evil shark from the underworld _came and _ate_ them! Roar!"

Kankuro and I exchange glances, raising our brows (in Kankuro's case, his eyebrows). Sasuke just finishes his soup, places it inside the sink and mumbles something about leaving for the bus and Itachi closes his eyes. I can just feel his migraine coming on.

Before any other wonderful fun can happen, I snatch Kankuro's car keys and bow towards Itachi—"Thank you for letting me stay tonight"—before making a direct beeline out the door. I'm so happy I can find the door without getting embarrassingly lost, thought it make be due to the fact that it is like _this tall_ and you spot it anywhere on the first floor. Whatever.

I feel doubt nagging at the back of my mind but I gently wave it off—I'm not one to worry about my own decisions over and over again and I wasn't really about to start now. Carefully unlocking the car, I drag myself inside, start the ignition and pray to not-God (or Kami, I guess) that I won't get caught driving when my driving-limit-thing already went over three days ok.

Only Kami knows (I'm going to refer to him as Kami now… because Kami sounds… cool)

--

Who knows driving in a car for several hours on end gets boring after a while? All guilty members must raise their hands now.

It's been a little over two hours and I'm hunched up here in the pitiful little shade my Chevy allows me, driving with two fingers on the wheel (which would be much to the horror of Baki, who taught all three of us Sabaku siblings how to drive) and the hardcore metal rock station blasting full-sound out of the radio. I'm sure any decent-minded Christian-fanatic would've liked to shoot me in the heart two times for the racket I was making on the freeway. Whatever.

I must be hallucinating, now. I think I see Baki waving at me from the middle of the road. Wonderful. I drive right through the hallucination and keep going, feeling as if my eyes had suddenly gained three pounds on each lid and were now threatening to shut close and risk me driving into a pole or something. However, the squabble in my head keeps me from fully succumbing the sleep my body insists I get and keeps my eyes on the road. Damn voices. They've been gradually getting louder, more insistent, and a lot less understandable since the effects of the last pill I'd taken had worn off yesterday. Hence, the loud, booming rock music.

I decide to take a stop at a rest area, load my car full of coke, unload my bladder, and sit on the park bench in the cool, California spring breeze and blink several times. I knew damn well that if I started driving again in this state, hallucinating and hearing voices, it'd be likely that I'd crash and possibly get myself killed or arrested. Sometimes, I think this is my father's way of punishing me. Plaguing me with a damn mental disease that may or may not subdue later in life just seems like a _perfect_ revenge for him.

It wasn't really that bad before—at first, it was just hushed voices and paranoia. I hated communicating with people and socializing, as I'd always feel that prickling sensation on my neck that someone was gossiping about me behind my back. That paranoia led to my violence and anger issues in the treatment center but subsided after Temari started forcing those pills down my throat. I very rarely forget to take my medicine, so I don't exactly know when it started happening, but I realized that after about fifteen, I'd start hallucinating as well as hearing voices (it seemed like the hallucinations replaced my anxiety, though I am still unsure if this was a good or bad thing). The hallucinations almost always centered on people I know—Baki, Naruto, Neji, Sasuke, Temari and Kankuro—and usually consisted of me seeing them staring at me will blank, lifeless eyes at the corner of my eyes. At first, it scared the shit out of me, but now, I guess I'm used to it.

People get used to the strangest things sometimes.

Besides, as I said before, I rarely forget to take my medication. That is why I know, deep inside me, that Sasuke cannot be possibly in front of me dressed in a bunny suit singing "I'm a little teacup" with Naruto by his side, wearing nothing but a leash. The Naruto part is probably more of something my sick fantasies have created, but Sasuke? Um… no. I bow my head down into my knees and wait, anxiously, for this "episode" to past.

About twenty minutes later, I'm back inside the car, balancing a coke bottle between my lips and the wheel, two fingers once again driving and the radio station off. I glance at the clock again—12:37—grit my teeth, and accelerate to sixty miles per hour. Am I not there yet? Because I'm getting a butt cramp.

You do not want to be around Sabaku no Gaara when he gets a butt cramp.

Finally, I soar through very familiar gates, ignore the stares people give me as I refuse to slow down my pace, and look straight forward, sipping my coke. Tall, orange-bricked building, a good number of stories high, menacing and professional-looking to the mere outsider, standing erect near the center of town. A place full of grief and hatred, and where grief and hatred are heading to now.

"Welcome, all American outsiders," the sign outside the town declared to all who bothered to slow down to a crawl to read it, "to Sunagakure."

_A slice of hell and back again_.

--

"…excuse me, sir, but there isn't an appointment on here for someone named 'Sabaku no Gaara'."

I glare holes into the secretary's make-up lined face and she squeaks, attempting to sink into her chair.

"I told you before, let me talk directly to the manager and I'll take it from there."

"B-b-b-but you need an _appointment_—" I give up. To be more accurate, I give up trying to convince her to very kindly let me go. Narrowing my eyes, I very aggressively push past the secretary's desk and towards the stairs, ignoring the cries of alarm filling the air.

As I nimbly jump from one stairway to the next, I feel the bile taste of resentment build up deep in that pit at the bottom of my stomach (been a long time since that's happened, huh?). I slow my pace to a walking snail-pace speed, contemplating.

What was I doing here? In all aspects, I don't belong. Not that I'd ever belong, even though I'm to be the next CEO of this gigantic company of doom, seeing as my taste in technology has yet to be tested. And yet, as I conquer step after step, my thoughts turn from bewilderment to sadness and from sadness, to anger.

This was all _his_ fault, anyway. If he hadn't pretended so earnestly to like me, to love me, to cuddle me, I wouldn't have had the same reaction to his rejection than what I had done. If he hadn't smiled that fake smile of his and rose up my hopes, it wouldn't have been such a fall when my world came crashing down around me.

My fingers clench and I vaguely comprehend that I am now working my way to the fourth floor. _He_ is on the tenth. Six more to go.

_He hated you right from the start, because you killed her, her, her, _her_, his precious sister—it's all your fault anyway, it's what you did, not his, never his—_I attempt to shake that hissing voice of doubt in my head and, instead, plunge into another whispering—

_Is there something wrong with me? A curse? Is it this that keeps plaguing my heart as I move from place to place, city to city, clinging onto my skin? Is it because I killed him? I killed mother—both mothers—_no, no, no, I didn't kill him; he's still alive and I'm going to go see him _right now_ and give him a piece of my mind—I wasn't to be a coward any more, _shut up—_

_These feelings are so conflicting. I'm not sure which—do I want him dead… or myself?_ For a second, I lean against the wall for support as I am wracked by another schizophrenic episode of hatred, face strained. The moment passes and I regain my breath, which had been haggard just moments before.

"This is dangerous." I say to myself in deathly cold voice, a cold voice matching the ice freezing in my heart. "Why am I doing this?"

_Because I told you to_, says Sensible Gaara. Before I can reply with something tart, he vanishes.

One step. Another. _Why did he do it? What am I going to tell him? _Am I going to just go in there and be like, "Hey, you ruined my life"? What's the point in that? Will he even care?

Do I want to make him feel guilty for destroying my life?

_Yes,_ the malicious voice of _him_ suddenly snaked into my being, _yes, make him feel all the pain and suffering he inflicted on us—make him feel more than sorry, guilty, angry and crush his spirit to dust_. I am suddenly filled with complete rage, a torrent of angry phrases I've always kept quietly inside me filling my mind in every which way.

_I am _not_ useless, I can do this, how dare you do this to me, what did I do to you, it's not my fault, it's yours, I can't help it, please stop, you're a selfish son of a bastard who destroyed the trust of a six-year old boy, please stop it, why did you pretend for so long when you hated me deep inside, why, do you really hate me, why, do you really _really _hate me, am I a bad boy, I didn't do it on purpose, this blood on my hands is because of _you_, what did you do to me, I hate you, I wish you'd like me like I liked you—_

The eighth floor crawls by, as does the ninth. The last flight of stairs is being shakily conquered by me, whose vision feels narrowed, focused, and pointedly directed at the middle of the stairway. What do I want to say to _him_? Though my newfound (or newly awakened) knowledge crushed me from all corners, I know that inside, there is a reason why my mind had clung to those bittersweet memories of my childhood.

Temari, with her little fan and playfully violet sundress. Kankuro, goofy smile all over his face as he convinces me to join in yet another going-to-fail prank. Baki, strict frown yet warm eyes and his I-told-you-so-voice. Father, the hidden shadow behind the knives he used to give me. And Mom, whose name is Yashamaru as I know now, dirty blonde hair and gentle reprimands, before he revealed his true self.

Or was that his fake self? What is real and what is fake—_Kankuro had said that Dad was "pushing" Yashamaru, but how much of that was true?_—is being blurred and I look down at my feet. I'm wearing tattered old boots that must have immediately alerted everyone within a ten feet radius that I was most likely some hobo the minute I stepped into the building. My clothes are wrinkled from sleeping in them and I must look haggard due to my building insomnia. Screw this.

"_I always wanted to tell you that you may have taken control of life for the past something years, but that does not mean I cannot take a stand to you now. I have to tell you that you hurt me really bad_." No, too wimpy and childish. I hobble on.

"_Yashamaru. We must talk now_." No…

"_I hate you! You ruined my life! I WISH YOU'D GO JUMP OFF A CLIFF!_" It conveys my feelings nicely and yet… it's crude. I give up. The rage has built up deep in my chest and suddenly, I feel as if I am on fire. Very literally.

The last step. Suddenly, I sort of feel like God. Who knows why. Full of wrath and anger—yep, just like him. Suddenly, everything _stills_. A floating sensation washes over me as the mix of my emotions and schizophrenic voices ripple by my side, and, in a flash, I am out of my body.

Like a wandering spirit, I see myself slowly approach the doors at the tenth floor, face passive and void of all emotion and yet still twisted in a conundrum of anger and confusion, hand brushing against the doorknob.

I watch with a twisted feeling crawling in my gut as my body slowly turns the knob, watch as my eyes flare up in swelled-up anger and frustration, and watch as the door slowly opens. I step fiercely inside.

The world blows still. A weird metaphor, and yet I feel it accurate.

A dark, red-tinged mahogany desk filled to the brim with paperwork and pencils. A large-screen TV imbedded into the left wall. A small, white laptop. Cardboard boxes, strewn about the edges of the room. Framed newspaper articles, glued onto the walls. A large black rolling chair.

A tousled blonde head, bent down in paperwork.

My anger hitches in my throat as my piercing green eyes lock onto that bobbing head, feet slowly but surely moving towards that desk. Step by step. Anger rising, pounding without mercy against my head, I slowly walk until I am directly in front of the mess of paper, shadowing the blonde man.

Finally, he looks up.

"Can I help you?"

In that split second, I feel as if an arrow had pierced the anger surrounding my heart. The confusion and pain just… drift away, and I am left, tired and deflated—a sixteen year old boy hovering dangerously close to the regent CEO of Suna Tech, eyes blank without emotion and face contorted in one of anguish. Deflated.

I just want to go home.

"Hey, Mom." is my gruff answer, soft and hoarse

. Large navy, almost brilliant purple, eyes widen in horror and the man's face pales to the shade of paper-white. Scared, and terrified. As if he had just seen a ghost. He suddenly looks almost as old as I feel, face sagging down in one of defeat and hand gripping the table until they were white. The fingers suddenly let go of their victim and fold themselves softly his lap, and the man looks at me with a look that brings a wave of nostalgia to my mind.

"Gaara." He clears his throat, and I can't help but noticing his hand shaking slightly as he brings it to his mouth. "Um… this is quite a surprise."

_Oh, yes, what a surprise. Abandoning me all these years and all of sudden, heave-ho, I'm here, in your face, demanding for answers. And you _will_ give me answers, you god-forsaken bastard. Sit down and don't talk, or else I'll put this switch knife to your throat, you hear me?_

"Yeah…" I say, so quietly even my own ears strained to hear my whispers, "I wanted… to talk to you… about something." My legs tremble. I want to bolt. Run away from the confusion and pain that's been haunting me, lurking behind my thoughts all these years, bolt to the car and drive as fast I can—anywhere, as long as it was far away from here. I force myself to stand still.

_What are you so afraid of? You're Sabaku no Gaara. You can do _anything.

If only that was true.

"Okay. That's cool." Mom—Yashamaru—puts down his pen. Puts down his paper. Looks me in the eye. "What do you want to talk about?"

My mouth feels dry. Parched. Dead. I try to say all the thoughts, the feelings that have bubbled up to the surface in all my recollections these past days:

_Why did you do it? Bastard, I thought you loved me. You tried to kill me, and I tried to kill you. I thought you were dead. Why did I kill Mother? Why did you blame me? Is it my fault? Is it _still _my fault? I'll try to be a good boy. Anything to take the guilt away. Why? Why are you standing there like nothing's wrong? Why haven't you withered away, like me? How? Why?!_

My lips move. My tongue complies. "I… um… my band…"

Mom's face is unreadable—the emotions flickering through his expressions run so fast that the best word to describe it is "expressionless". Slowly, his hands rise until they are crossed together, supporting his chin as he blinks up at me.

"'Name', right? Baki told me about you guys." _I know more about you then you think, Gaara. I've been keeping track of you._

The unspoken words are killing me. I feel cold—chilled, like I am standing in the midst of an iceberg. My eyes dart from _his_ face to the wall—the newspapers. Half of them blare out developments from Suna Tech; the other half talk about the conspiracy the Ex-CEO had caused and the poor little boy who went insane. A picture of me, twelve, in court twists my stomach until I feel nauseous and I immediately turn back to face Mom, who is quiet. Still.

He knew I was looking.

_Why the hell do you keep track of me? For what? So you can hurt me again? Don't even bother trying to pretend you love me—I can see through your lies. What are your motives? How did you become a regent? Why is it that even after you tried to kill me, Baki and you are still on good terms? Shut your mouth—I don't want to hear you speak, you hear me? I'm going to punish you for all the anguish you caused me all these years—all this pain. _

"Yeah." I say simply. "I just… we…"

My hands move on their own accord. I watch, a ghostly specter, in fascination as my hands reach into my pockets, and it just so happens that there is something in there. Two sheets of fine, glossy paper. Horrified, I watch what comes out of my mouth next. My puppet mouth. My out-of-control, I-will-not-say-what-you-want-me-to-say mouth.

My hands place the two papers on the table. My mouth is dry and my eyes, wide in horror. What the hell was I doing? No—stop it! This isn't want I came here for! I came here for confrontation. For an explanation. Not a—a pretty-boy two-minute talk that ends with—ends with—

My mouth continues to speak. I can't control it.

"We're g-going to the Battle of the Bands… this week. Tickets." _Tickets? What were tickets doing in my pocket?!_

Mom looks at the tickets, and looks back at me. I try to keep my expression passive—apathetic. The instinct to run has gripped my legs. I am immobilized—glued on the spot.

"Okay, Gaara." He smiles. I remember that same smile, before everything had happened—smiling as he pushed me on the swings, as he held my hand as we went to get ice cream from the ice cream man—and I shiver, with suspicion.

This man did not look like the same man that had attempted to smash my head in with a wine bottle, all those years ago. I remember that image clearly—me, terrified as I looked up at the blonde-ragged locks, crazed violet eyes whose pupils had shrunk to small dots, face anguished and sweaty and hand dripping blood. The desperation about his expression was clear. Now, however, the man sitting in front of me, gazing at me blankly appeared to be who I always thought he'd be—even if my mind was screaming contradictions.

It is unnerving.

After a moment of subdued silence, I decide to take my leave.

Each step away from the table, away from the soft-spoken blonde man with the strange violet eyes brings a weird hitch to my throat. I want it to stop. What convinced me to come here in the first place?

Stupid teenage-stubbornness, that's what. It's my only excuse.

My hand is on the doorknob. I move to turn, when I heard that soft, familiar voice fluttering to my ears.

"Gaara, wait."

I don't turn around completely, but I look at the man from the corner of my eye and catch the expression in his eyes. I'm not usually an expert in reading the "windows to one's soul" and yet I immediately saw exactly what kind of torment was lying inside Mom's heart.

A deep, heart-wrenching sadness, and a guilt that bore away at him daily, well-hidden in a tangle of conflicting emotions. Open to him now as he spoke. Quietly. Soft. With an emotion that attempted to push back my barricade of suspicion.

"All those years ago… I know we both made a lot of mistakes. I'm not saying we should start over… judging from what Baki has told me, that's far from the case. It's just that…" his voice cracks. Oh, not-god, I hate it when their voices crack. "…back then, I said a lot of bad things to you. I was so angry then, and so young. I didn't realize the effects of my words until afterwards—long afterwards. I admit to you, I resented you from ever since you were young…"

He sighed. "But, later on, you grew on me. I was fond of you. And because I started to grow fond of you, your father used that love growing inside me and twisted it around. I can't say it's entirely his fault—it was my own, too—but he made me feel _guilty_ for liking you—you, who was my 'sister's killer'. After everything happened, I went to have treatment, you know. Baki came and talked to me, and told me everything… about what happened… especially at your treatment center…" He's shaking. I know he's shaking.

Or, maybe, I'm the one that's shaking. Whoever it was, the world was rumbling, bubbling, threatening to explode. I push the urge down and force myself to remain calm as I try to open my mind to his story. How can I trust him, this man that destroyed me? How do I know his words aren't lies? His voice and face and body language all display honesty, and yet he's tricked me before.

"I'm sorry, Gaara. I really am. I'm not expecting you to forgive me… but know that I am on your side."

I can't handle it. I flee.

The schizophrenia is catching up to me, and the rumbling, bubbling earth was so close to the surface, I feel my face pale in contrast. Flinging open the door, I run out with that horrible expressionless mask plastered to my face, coolly jumping five stairs at a time and wondering blearily if I'll be caught by security.

But even as I reach the last level and speed-walk out of the lobby, no security man came after me. Even the security said nothing as the door slowly clicked shut, and I numbly get into the car.

Nothing.

The wheel was wet. It angered me—why the hell was the wheel _wet_?

It wasn't until I drove five minutes out of the city that I realized that the wetness were tears, and that those tears were dripping down my face. Crying, without emotion.

No, that was wrong, I berated myself.

I was crying. I was crying out all my confusion and emotions built up over the years, and I didn't even bother to stop it. I was too tired.

I just wanted to go home.

--

_Ring—_

Ignore it. Hands, gripping white on the wheel.

_Ring, ring—_

That damn thing's vibrating, too. I curse Sasuke for weighing me down with such a—such a _worthless_ piece of metal, and the urge to throw the thing on the dashboard was overwhelming. I am disorganized and confused. Afraid. Scared.

_Should I accept it? Should I not? He said he wasn't expecting me to forgive him, but knowing what he said, does it make me feel better?_

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. _Stop asking me these questions—_

_Ring, Ring, Ring—_

It's annoying. Aggravating. I don't pick up, and a second later, the phone rings again.

My sense of self is weakened. Numb. I give in, and fumble with my other pocket before finally grabbing the cellphone Sasuke had thrown at me just the other night.

_How slow time flies…_

"Hello?"

"Gaara!?" My eyes snap open from the trance-like stupor they were in a moment ago, and I almost swerve off the road. Gathering myself (and my place in lane, to the annoyance of the cars behind me), I grip the cellphone with stone-like strength.

"Gaara, you finally picked up! Thank _god_—when Sasuke, that bastard, told me that you just went off on your own to who-knows-where I was _so_ worried you were going to drive off to your death—you aren't, are you? Anyway, I'm off playing hooky again—not much fun in school, anyway. Neji's having a hissy fit 'cause someone stole his little turtle-choker and he's been off on a rampage. Personally, I think it's Hinata who stole it, bless her soul, but whatever. Are you okay? Not going to commit suicide?"

I giggle uncharacteristically, and once the first high-pitched noise had left my mouth, I can't stop. I have to park by the side of the road to ensure I won't crash into something and unintentionally commit suicide as I giggle my little head off. I start to hiccup in the midst of giggling and I alternate between the two.

"…Gaara? Gaara, are you okay? _Oh my God, _Gaara, you're not turning insane again are you? Did you take your schizophrenia medicine? Gaara? Gaara, do you hear me?"

"Of course," I manage to gasp out before giggling again, "Hehe… you're just another voice in my head… hehe… hehehe…"

"Gaara, I'm not a voice in your head! Calm down! It's me! Naruto—the greatest guy in all of Konoha? _Hello_? Are you alright? Here, how far away are you from Konoha?"

"Twenty minutes." I giggle, not believing the voice on the phone. I don't know, but it seems that the whole world had faded away, and I was in a really, really weird dream. I was probably sprawled in Sasuke's house, still sleeping away, and everything that had just happened was a figment of my imagination. I can't help my giggling—the laughter just bubbles out from my gut and is incontrollable.

"Okay, Gaara, _calm down_. Breathe in and out, in and out. Focus—don't lose yourself! Man, are you high or something? Breathe slowly…" I follow the voice happily. The miniature anxiety attack fades and I recollect myself, mind slowly restoring its IQ levels back to one of acceptable human-intelligence.

"…better?"

"Better."

"Okay. Thought I lost you there… you know how scary you get when you have one of those attacks. Promise me the first thing you'll do when you get into Konoha's borders is to go and get some of that schizophrenia medicine you take, alright?"

"Okay."

"And after that, meet me at the ice cream parlor, okay?"

"You're not going to bring Sasuke with you, are you?"

Naruto sounds appalled, and, dare I say, _amused_? "No, I'm not going to bring that walking epitome of emo-ness with me. Don't worry. Just you and me. Together. Okay?"

I nod dumbly, then realize he can't see me nodding on the phone. "Oh… uh… okay. Why? Are you mad at me, too?"

Naruto laughs, and I immediately take a snapshot of that laugh—store it in my folds of consciousness and lock it up, tight. His laugh is clear and strong, and sometimes I wish I can laugh like that. Not giggle like the insane maniac I am.

"Gaara, you're so dense. Anyway, I have to hang up 'cause the principal just spotted me, but I'll meet you there, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, bye!"

"Bye."

I toss the phone into the passenger seat and grip the wheel with my icy, cold hands.

I hate this car's air conditioning.

--

The house is empty when I arrive—Temari and Kankuro are both off at the University and Baki's been gone for ages. I finally find my medication bottle in the back of the medicine cabinet, take the pills, swallow, and get back into the car.

Suddenly, the whole flat looks vacant and hollow—the emptiness chills me to the bone. I shake off the feeling with a slight shudder before starting the engine and backing out of the driveway (I'm still amazed some police officer hadn't caught me yet for going over my license restriction).

I look, for the first time, at the disheveled houses that make up the more hidden district of Konoha—the dirty roofs and mangled doors, the weathered shingles and cracked sidewalks. I also note the fleeting, content expressions mingling among the Konoha crowd, their willingness to accept their situation. And move on.

I wonder briefly if their outlook in life had affected mine.

The ice cream parlor is the same as always—situated on a corner, small, with the slight whiff of antiquity clinging to its décor. The bell rings as I step in and for a moment I expect bouncy Tenten to lead me to the table where a certain blonde sat, cross-legged with a hand under his chin. Instead, a fumbling young man escorts me and my brain explains to me that school is still going on and Tenten was no way near "rebellious" enough to skip school for her job.

Naruto perks up the moment he sees me, large blue eyes widening a little and a tugging at the ends of his lips, bringing him into a cute smile. I decide immediately that I really like that smile.

I sit down.

"You calm?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely positive?"

"Naruto," I raise my voice slightly and he looks, oddly, happy. Wearing a large black t-shirt that declared that he "wanted me to be a piñata" and some dark navy jeans, his hair looked like it'd been pulled through his car. He notices me looking.

"Neji." he explained, hand running self-consciously through his tufted blonde hair. "Right after he found the choker missing, he immediately put the blame on me. What'd I do?"

"You _are_ the king of pranks," I note dryly. "Even now, you're skipping school."

"School's overrated."

"Uh-huh."

I order a strawberry milkshake from the waiter. Naruto cocks his head left and has the decency to look worried. "You okay, Gaara?" he asks, leaning forward so that he can brush some of my red locks away from my eyes. "You're awfully pale."

He brushed my hair out of my eyes. _He brushed my hair out of my eyes_. Excuse me for a split second while Romantic-Gaara goes runs in circles. Thank Not-God my expressions only flicker for that long. I look away from him.

"I'm okay. What did you bring me here for?"

Naruto smiles a more devious smile, eyes narrowing a bit and his brilliantly white teeth show. "Nothing. Well, okay, everything." He leans forward again, hand reaching out to grab my chin and force me to stare at him.

Damn.

He scrutinizes me with those curious sky-blue eyes and whispers:

"Do you remember what you told me at the treatment center, all those years ago?"

I stare at him blankly (though not without looking like a fish without water), mind completely blank of comprehension. He's too close, and I can smell that familiar, sun-tinged scent on him, clinging onto his soft, tan skin. I blink.

I had told him a lot of things at the treatment center. I can play dumb and tell him that. I can play naïve and clueless and dense and all those other things I've been unconsciously playing without sounding wimpy for the past two weeks and continue my little blind game.

Truth is, I'm tired.

Meeting with Yashamaru drained the will out of me, along with my fear and anxiety and whatever crap I had kept in my heart for so long. I'm tired of playing my own stupid game and I want to quit.

Because the truth is—I know. I know, and I've been avoiding everything like a dog with its tail between its legs, scared and terrified for myself and my relationships. Trying to put on an aggressive, no-touch expression on the outside, just because I was hurt once.

"Yeah." I say calmly in my reputed dead monotone, no stutter in my words and no hint of fear, "I… confessed… to you."

Naruto grins again—the same devious grin that he had flashed at me a second ago. I suddenly know that he's got something up his sleeve. Something I don't know about.

My brow furrows in slight suspicion.

"Remember why you got kicked out of the treatment center? Why it got shut down within a month of you leaving? Why Professor Orochimaru looks so familiar?"

I shudder. This was hard. I'm tempted to whine in my Gaara-fashion that I don't know anything and why was he asking me this, but I don't. I wasn't going to play my own game anymore. I'm Sabaku no Gaara.

Not a coward. Not a frightened dog.

Gotta remember that.

"I… I… was chained to a bed." _Maybe? It might have been a dream—no, I was—I'm sure…_ "The psychiatrist—no, Orochimaru, had chained me there. He wanted to… rape… me, but then you came and went all MPD on him. The nurses… had to drag you out and calm you down and Umino-san called Baki, who took me out of the treatment center the next day." _Or was it the next week? The next hour? No, no, no, it was the next day. _"He led a lawsuit against the treatment center… something about the center not abiding by the rules and torturing their patients… and it closed down."

Naruto's nodding. I know I got it right, and suddenly I'm filled with little-kid ecstasy. No more hiding. It's all out there.

"Do you remember…" he asked, "what I said afterwards? The morning before you left?"

I'm still.

Do I know this?

Do I know this?

Naruto leans a little closer, and I wrinkle my nose at him. The waiter had left the strawberry milkshake at the edge of the table and hurried off. Homophobe.

Naruto's lost the smile on his face, and in return he's replaced it with one of deep seriousness. Scary. I've never seen Naruto so focused on something before. I blink and shake my head.

The blonde seems almost amused at the fact that he's going to have to answer his own question for me. He teases me with his own nose-wrinkling.

"'Like you, too, you idiot.'"

Then, I will swear to the God I now know exists, he kisses me. _On the lips_.

He leans forward, tilts his head sideways and slowly puts his lips on mine—soft, warm, and smelling like the sun. He doesn't close his eyes or blink, and I don't either, just stare at him in shock.

I would've opened my mouth like a fish in water, too, except for the fact that I knew if I did so I may find a tongue in there not my own. Then I'd faint.

And Sabaku no Gaara does _not_ faint from a simple kiss.

Despite this fact, however, it looks as if Naruto is planning on making me faint. I also know that, deep inside, I secretly really, _really_ want him to do it—to make me all hot and bothered and especially involved, but I'm confused and a little frightened (though you'll have to mow me over with a lawnmower before you'll get me to confess that) and don't think we should go that far.

Not… that… far…

"Hey, if you two are done sucking face, do you mind moving over?"

_I am saved_.

Naruto breaks off to look back at a very familiar black-dressed teenager, annoyed. My face feels flushed (and probably is) and I swear I see stars. I bite my tongue to keep myself from collapsing backwards and face my saviors.

"Sasuke, you bastard—what are you doing here?! I told you not to follow me here!"

"Hey, I didn't want to come," Sasuke smirks and puts his hands up in a mock-innocent manner. His tone and smirk suggests humor, though his body language and eyes say otherwise. It hurts. I mean, it hurts for him to see Naruto with me. If I was any other person, I might have felt sympathetic and go through a phase of self-doubt, but I am not any other person.

I am me.

And I am feeling a slight tug of possessiveness creep into my heart.

I glare at Sasuke and he raises his eyebrows.

"Then why'd you come?" Naruto is still shouting, face contorted in anger. He reminds me of a hissy cat, fur on end and tail zigzagging upwards. An orange hissy cat. Ha. I am the king of stray thoughts. If anyone ever goes off-topic more then I do in the course of the day's thinking, call me.

"I told him to come with me."

Naruto whirls to face Neji, whose arms are crossed, face is blank and lips are pursed. Before he continues talking, however, he shoots me a quick "you-go-boy" look with a quick wink. I blush and then mentally berate myself for doing so.

"I was… _horrified_… when I heard from Sasuke that Gaara had decided to skip school. Obviously, my first thought was that _you_ had persuaded for him to skip, and sure enough, by lunch you weren't there." He slowly uncrosses his arms, and moves to take a stick of gum from his pocket, putting in his mouth, "And before you ask why _we're _here, it's lunch break right now."

Naruto opens his mouth, but Sasuke overrides him.

"I said _move over_, dobe."

Grumbling, Naruto shifts his (cute, not meticulously tiny yet adorable—oh, not-God, I can't believe I thought that… I must be reading too much of Temari's romance novels) butt over and the Uchiha takes, with an "I-belong-here-and-you-do-not" haughtiness, his seat next to the blonde. I immediately move to make room for Neji, who doesn't take up much space anyway.

"C'mon! Sasuke, I _told_ you we'd be—you were supposed to—I can't _believe _you'd—_argh_! You guys weren't supposed to interrupt!" Naruto grumbles, head in hands. "We were _just _getting to the good part, too!"

"The 'good part'?" Neji inquires, raising an amused brow in my direction and I give me a slight wrinkle of my nose in response. Whatever, Hyuuga.

Speaking of whom, I really had to update him on my new revelations on my past. It really wouldn't be fair to him otherwise. He _is_ my best friend, after all.

"So?" Neji continues as he stares at Sasuke and then to me. "I heard from our little black-clad friend that he and Naruto had planned some sort of wicked scheme today, and I had decided to come and see for myself."

He gives an evil Greater-than-thou Hyuuga chuckle which I _swear_ I've heard his cousin Hinata emit before (in which it involved Sakura, a can of tuna, and whipped cream) and sends shivers up my spine (which I will never admit… even after you've mowed me with a lawnmower, drowned me in a tub, put my out to dry on a clothesline _and_ told Temari I'd actually stolen her tampons when I was younger because Kankuro claimed that they had some sort of magic powers that cured bloody noses). Ugh.

Naruto then chooses this time to very distractingly change the subject: "Guys, guys, now that you've interrupted _our_ time," Our time? My face flushes, "let's talk about something else, okay? Hey, you got your choker back."

"Lee had it," Neji says matter-of-factly with a brief rolling of his eyes, cool and composed and absolutely apathetic of the reign of terror he had supposedly bestowed upon poor Konoha High when he couldn't find the damn thing. "He noticed how dirty it had gotten, had Hinata steal it, and went to go wash it for me." His eyes grow softer, "Idiotic, but sweet."

Sasuke, Naruto and I exchange "Oh my lord, he's going ga-ga again" looks but keep quiet.

The next twenty minutes went by with our regular talk—the battle of the bands tomorrow, Neji choosing his college, the rest of us _sending in_ our application forms—avoiding the topic of _me, Naruto_ and my first-time-ever play-hooky. I prefer it that way.

In fact, the entire time my sub-conscious mind made short, possibly witty (me? Witty? Ha.) comments, my layers and layers of schizophrenic-induced mind levels whirled and thought and turned, making connections and breaking them.

Sure, I didn't really get to say what I want to Yashamaru. My mouth had frozen up and I probably looked extremely silly, face contorted with varying emotions while I attempted to spit out whatever my mind could process in that short split second I had while Mom had waited for me. I decide.

It doesn't matter.

I don't care.

I don't care if Mom had tried to kill me and I had tried to kill him and I had killed many other such people in the following years. I don't care if I had felt crushed and alone when Baki had left and never told him or anyone else—kept it inside myself, buried it in a mound of self-angst. I don't care if Itachi likes to grope me or if Kankuro is a jerk-yet-not-a-jerk or if Temari's an overprotective sister who just recently decided to date Shikamaru again or if Kiba and Hinata are now dating each other due to Neji's wonderful sense of match-making—

I just don't care.

Strangely, I feel a certain warm bubbly feeling start to rise from that pit in my stomach. A nice, warm bubbly feeling. I can get used to it. I don't care. Why?

I have a family. I have a (maybe?!) boyfriend. I have a flawed yet sweet set of friends that care about my well-being. I have people that cared about me.

Hell, I have a company that's going to be soon underneath my fingers. Good lord.

"Hey, Gaara, are you okay?" I snap out of twenty minute train-of-thought, staring blankly at Neji.

I think about the question. I think about the answer.

Am I okay? Am I truly, in all senses, all right with myself and others and everything that has been happening?

I am relieved. I am comfortable with myself, even with my murderous past and schizophrenia that refuses to go away. I am oddly content to stay apathetic to my confusion. Is that okay? Is that alright?

"…yeah," I murmur to myself as I take another sip from my milkshake, "I think I'm pretty damn okay."

Neji's eyebrows immediately shoot upwards, and Naruto rewards me with a gentle tickle from his foot. I consider leaving it be, but decide it really wouldn't hurt me to try and have some fun once in my life.

Fun.

What a free and liberating word.

"Neji," I say with a small smile on my face as I attack the blonde sitting across from me with my sandals of doom.

"Yes?"

I manage to remove my foot from the sandal and very teasingly start to slip it up Naruto's pants. He lets out a growling noise and moves to try and put his own foot up my pants, in which I very skillfully block his every move. Metaphoric, I know. His eyes are playful, though—warm, blue, clear and somehow like the sun.

"Do you have some gum?"

Just like the time I first saw him.

--

AN: OMG I'm sorry I haven't updated in, like, four months! dies and gets shot Well, what have I been doing all this time? Writing this 30+ page chapter of DOOM! For more rantings, go to the next (and last) chapter! That's right. It's FINISHED! I am not lying. Now, go--click that " >" button. You know you want to.


	20. Name: Breaking the Music

--

**Breaking the Music**

_By FlightAngel_

--

It's raging dark and the music is deafening; the music set here is more advanced than anything I've ever seen. The stage is seemingly endless—the audience is but a blur of colors and screams and ecstatic jumping-up-and-down and my vision is full of sharp images and colors. And scents.

Impossible, I know, yet anything is possible in this contest of impossibility. Neji is singing clearly, outwardly composed—yet I know that the same wild fire that had surged through us the moment we stepped on the black paint-splattered podium had touched him as well—the wild eyes, tousled hair, rigid pose and voice full of emotion tasted salty on my tongue. Another impossibility.

But there's enough of them tonight, isn't there? Sasuke's drums are a musical racket of snaps and clangs and beats and Naruto's guitar is sitting useless by his side as he boldly screams his accompaniment into the microphone. We're not excellent. Not even great. We're the average wannabe band, taking an impossible shot at an impossible dream at the Battle of the Bands where everything impossible is turned inside-out and twisted upside-down. But we like it.

That's all that matters.

No more hiding, no more fear—raw emotion bursting out everywhere, accompanying pleasure, singing for the fun of it and nothing else.

Temari. Kankuro. I spot them in the audience, not singing with the rest of the crowd nor having their hair tousled, just standing there—composed. Watching. Hinata and Kiba are off to the side—Hinata smiling and Kiba cheering Naruto on; Shikamaru is sitting offside Temari with an expression of boredom on his face, though his eyes are clear and alert. Itachi and Kisame have even decide to join the fun—seated in the back row, they are hidden in the mass of flickering shadows and lights and colors, smiling their secret smile as the battle rage carries on.

It takes a while in the blur of emotions and colors and what seems to be a lifetime when in reality is less than ten minutes, but I finally spot them. Worn. Old. Focused.

Mom and Baki are sitting in the front row—sitting, not standing—Mom (Yashamaru) with his hands folded in his lap in a docile manner while Baki hovers over him, much like how the psychiatrist would hover over me at the treatment center.

A mirage of colors. A blur of the truth and the lies, the memories and the facts. My guitar-playing is going into a frenzy of sharp chords and accents, hand and mouth moving on their own accord as I lock eyes with him. Mom.

In his eyes, in this raw miniature world stripped of disguise, I see his sadness. Pain. Confusion. Guilt. Righteous anger. I know he sees mine, too. All that emotion. Fleeing. Gone away.

Far away.

There is no more hiding. No more backtracking, regrets, layers of filth and lies and misunderstandings—just me, the music, and everyone else in the world.

Music is no longer my cover. Neither is my density, nor my horribly tragic past.

"_We have to start breaking the music, Gaara."_

The music. My cover. My base.

The world freezes, and I watch in fascination—Sasuke, smile on his face even though he'd just lost his boyfriend to his friend; Neji, whose family tears him apart every moment of his life; Naruto, the sad blonde boy from the shelter whose multiple personality shattered his childhood—standing here, letting out all their sorrows and anger and laughter.

Standing here, breaking the music.

Together.

//---//---//---//---//---//

end

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AN: I thank everyone who has supported me so far. I know I said I was going to list everyone's names for helping me in the previous chapters, but right now that sounds damn right silly (seeing as there are several hundreds of reviews and I am not going to go and copypaste everyone's long, agonizingly full of number/symbol's names. I'm just thanking everyone in general.

I thank those who kept track of this story through story alerts. I know how it feels whenever someone on my alert list updates. Hopefully, you felt the same when I updated, too.

I thank those who favorited my story. I love favorites. It makes me feel a lot better that someone else out there in the world appreciates this story as much as I do (though I know there are flaws, it doesn't mean I can't like it).

I especially thank my reviewers--more accurately, those who took their time and told me what they liked. They boosted in me in my times of self-wallow (yes, I do that, too) and the critiques I got sort of gave me a reality check. I may have thrown a sort of tantrum (it was some chapter back then... can't remember which one), but I appreciate it all the same. And for those "update please!" reviewers? Appreciated as well. Though not as much as the detailed ones (but still appreciated).

Wow. I can't believe where this story's gone. I mean, I'm not even a Gaanaru fan to begin with and this is my longest, most complex fanfiction yet (I'm a Sasunaru fan). Anyway, it was interesting to write, and though I did drag it out in the end and made Gaara a little more OOC then normal (I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THAT!), I still finished it and I'm proud of that. Truly. Honest to God. Anyway, for those who have stayed with me since this fic started, thanks for sticking to it! And for those who may have finished reading it just now, thanks for reading the whole thing and not giving up in the middle of dragged-on-ness. Thank you so much! (bows).

And that, I say, is the end.

Except for the epilogue. You can read the epilogue if you like. Here it is:

//---//---//---//---//---//

**Epilogue:**

Thankfully, Kankuro is there to help me pack the garbage of stuff into about a hundred little cardboard boxes Kankuro stole from his professor's storage cabinet.

"Just don't tell him and we'll be fine," he had hissed at me when I questioned him about it, "and what the hell is this? A hairdryer?"

"I think it's my old iDog toy. Donate it."

"Can do."

Naruto doesn't show his blonde-headed self until almost all the "necessities" were packed (minus the cookie dough ice cream. Temari was like, "_NO, _Gaara, you are _not_ bringing the cookie dough ice cream to your dormitory! It's gonna, like, freaking _melt_!") and spent most of the time making lewd sexual references to my pants, our recent gig, and Sasuke's new infatuation.

"I can't believe you're still wearing those!"

"Naruto…"

"I mean, after what happened last time with Sasuke and Sai, I thought you'd have the mind to—I mean, oh _god_, this is so funny—"

"What ever happened to being kind and considerate to your boyfriend?" I cross my arms and glare at him with an "I am going to rightfully deny you anything sexual for the next month if you do not gather yourself up and stop acting like an immature fool" superiority to it. Naruto gasps in mock horror.

Glad to see my glares have "improved" over time (yeah, right). I can even make the skunk drop dead now (I tried it out when it sprayed Temari during her award ceremony—it worked like a charm, but was Temari gratified? Nooooo—she was all like, "Ew! That's disgusting, Gaara! Go throw it in a trashcan!").

Naruto quickly composes himself, though the occasional laughter-induced twitch still appears every once in a while as he speaks.

"Aw, come off it, Gaara! You know what I meant!"

I did know what he meant.

It didn't mean I had to like it.

"Look, _just because_ Sasuke has taken a liking to our new band manager _doesn't _give you the right as his ex-boyfriend to go and hound the poor man down." Before Naruto can interrupt, I continue, "'Hound' as in, making lewd jokes, spilling coffee on his new shirt, making generally teasing-yet-nasty comments, pulling his hair _and_, by the way, hiding his art kit."

Naruto's eyes bulged out. "How did you know _I_ was the one that had stolen his art kit? And I didn't pull his hair!"

"You attempted to cut it, dropped your scissors, and pulled his hair in an attempt to catch yourself from falling." I remind him. He scowls.

"Yeah, but—"

"_Plus_, I'm pretty damn sure if you tried to get over the 'Oh, no, he's dating my ex-boyfriend' factor, you two could be pretty good friends. And, by the way, may I remind you that Sasuke has stopped ragging on us since he first pulled that 'Oops I accidentally tripped on an imaginary tile and landed in your arms' trick at the executive party last week?"

Naruto's face has twisted into a sort of pout. "Man, you're like a sponge. You're even starting to sound like Neji, now."

I gave him another less-murderous glare, lift the last damn cardboard box into the U-Haul, and face Kankuro, who's sobbing.

I lift a brow as my brother manages to dirty up his shirt by using it wipe the tears from his eyes, revealing his stomach in the process. He even blows his nose on the thing.

"…….Kankuro, I'm going to go live in the University dorm. It's no big deal."

"_No big deal?!_ My little bro is going off into the world of the big, bad, and perverted, and you're saying it's _no big deal?!_" I sigh. "And why can't you stay at home? I mean, _Temari and I_ stay at home! We're all going to the same university! _Why, oh why, are you leaving us_?!"

"Says the man who told me he wanted me to die two years ago?" Kankuro shoots me an indignant look. "And besides, as you said, we all go to the same university. We're even taking the same Chinese class, for goodness' sake. And I'm moving out 'cause I finally got a dorm with Naruto (after bribing the dormitory people) and don't want to be like you and let everyone else in the whole damn house know exactly what's going on in the bedroom. Now help me close these doors." He scowls.

Damn Naruto. I _am_ starting to sound like Neji.

"Gaara!" Naruto runs up to me, waving two letters in front of my nose, "Before I forget, Neji told me to give these to you last time we met, since you weren't there and all because of that CEO meeting you had…" Speaking of the Hyuuga.

I grab the letters and stuff them in my back pocket, taking one last look at the flat I've lived in for the past six years.

A lot of things have changed.

Neji attends Stanford and mails me regularly. The whole gang gets together at the old ice cream parlor, for old time's sake, once a month, due to busy schedules and part-time jobs, though all of us keep in touch via mail, IM and sticky notes attached to the forehead (Naruto's brilliant idea of a wake-up call).

Sasuke has finally gotten over his sort-of grudge on me for "stealing" Naruto (even though Naruto had convinced him to help him "get" me) and has instead gotten a crush on our band manager, Sai. Hatake-san's way of trying to help us get more organized and focused.

"So maybe your band has now turned into a hobby," he had said, "but that's still no excuse to not do any gigs anymore. I mean, you're the guys who went through the Battle of the Bands without getting the critics to beat you to a pulp. That's enough, in my eyes. I've got another student of mine who's real good with connections—he can help you find gigs and edit your lyrics and the like. I'll hook you guys up, if you want."

Thus, Sai came into our group. Sort of.

We still have yet to invite him to our wonderful ice cream expeditions, for instance.

After I took the shaky position as CEO of Suna Tech, I've depended a lot on Yashamaru, who had held that position for the past six years. He's been a huge help, and though we don't talk often, I think the rift between us is getting thinner. Of course, Baki popping up every now and then to check up on my uncle is comforting in its own ways as well.

Itachi has become my financial rival, though he still gropes me just to kick out of my expression. I'll get him back for doing that in front of the whole board of directors, though. Mark my words. Sabaku no Gaara's going to haunt you to your grave. Insert evil laughter here.

Temari's still seeing Shikamaru, Kiba and Hinata are attached to the hip and Lee still sends Neji a bouquet of roses and a declaration of love every single week at exactly the same time in the morning. Scary, I know. Neji thinks it's "sweet".

Neji thinks anything related to Lee is sweet.

Sasuke is still staying at his brother's house and is only going to the University for his undergraduate's degree—according to him, he's aiming for bigger and better things for his bachelor's and possibly master's. Whatever. I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up in a Columbia school in the end, but that's in the future and is not in concern at the moment.

I, myself, have decided to improve my math, art and science in hopes that I can _possibly_ "work up" to my uncle's standards for success. I won't be any help if I can't understand half of what the board is saying, for instance. I'm taking Chinese because all good businessmen need to know Japanese and Chinese and, since I'm already fluent in Japanese, that only leaves one language left.

Naruto's going into music as his major, which means he seriously needs to learn his technique. He's been spending most of his summer alternating between seeing me/doing stuff with me (cough) and sitting in a deep dark hole with Hatake-san, pouring over volumes and volumes of technique.

I've spent my summer going on family trips (the whole family… Temari, Kankuro, Baki, Yashamaru and I), spending time/doing stuff with Naruto (cough, cough), doing community service (yes… community service. Even after I got into the university. Better do it now then later for my graduate schools), working my part-time job _and_ full-time job while I still can before I get back to school (in which Yashamaru will become a sort of part-time regent and it'll become my second part-time job) at the university.

Life changes. Life goes on. Life moves forward.

"Gaara, get into the truck before you're freaking left behind! And tell your boyfriend to drive his own car!" I scowl and give Naruto a slightly shy, brisk kiss on the cheek. Affection in Public is _not_ my forte. Naruto has the guts to pinch my butt, and I glare at him with the same sex-depriving look I had shot him earlier. He gives me a mock puppy-eyed lock and I smile at him.

I don't think I can ever really hate Naruto. Really.

"Gaara!"

"Shut up, Kankuro, I'm coming."

One step backward. Two steps forward. I haul myself into the U-Haul, give Kankuro a glance and throw him a thumbs-up.

I say in a dead monotone, "Let's get rocking."

He smiles. "Right with you, bro!"

And we did.

--

...and now, it is truly the end! Good bye!


End file.
